


Til the Rain Comes

by lollercakes



Category: Hunger Games (2012), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Poverty, Starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-19 08:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 69,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lollercakes/pseuds/lollercakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the rain doesn't come and the ground dries up, the people of District 12 sink into a desperate struggle for survival against starvation and poverty. It's only after a devastating accident in the mines that Peeta Mellark finds a friend in Katniss Hawthorne, realizing sometimes people need more than crops to survive and that maybe, even without rain, some things can still grow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Come on man, we’re going to be late,” Gale shouts from beyond the kitchen door. I see him scuff his boots against the dry dust that lingers outside the shop. It used to be grass but ever since the drought that’s rippled across Panem, everything seems to turn to dust.

And it’s not just relegated to District 12. All over the country, Districts have been thrust into new levels of poverty and starvation. Those with industries that rely on crop production have suffered the most with the failing plant growth and the lack of fresh water for drinking. Even District 4, which lies near the ocean, has suffered the consequences.

Here at home, I’ve had to abandon running the bakery full time. There isn’t enough product to purchase, and the Capitol has created a rationing program to stifle the requests. The program, designed to prioritize families and couples as ‘essential’ groups that receive more rations in turn for higher industry manufacturing, has basically stalled the production of any non-essential goods by limiting shipments to once a month. In the end, it all means that my family bakery, Mellarks, has turned solely into a bread production building and a stark reminder that the District is dying.

And sadly, you cannot support yourself with only bread whether it be through sustenance or cash flow or both.

That’s why I’ve taken to the mines. That’s why I spend countless hours working overtime in the underground, struggling alongside all of the long-time miners to produce the still-in-demand levels of coal.

I can’t complain – I was lucky to get this job. So many other merchant families that I’d known over the past few years kept their noses in the air until all the jobs were gone. Now all I can do is watch as they struggle to make ends meet and beg for food. I’d give them some, if I had any myself to give. But I don’t.

For the first time in District 12’s history, the Merchant class has slipped into a poverty greater than ever imagined, even in comparison to the Seam. Some would say it’s this poverty that drove so many of the able families off to other Districts with their last remaining funds – both mine and Delly’s parents included. They’d run to places like One and Two, where money was still available for their non-essential trades. I’d stayed behind to keep the family bakery alive and with that choice, Delly had stayed as well. 

I guess it’s not surprising though, that the Seam has only gotten stronger with the ever draining resources. They’ve been struggling for years and surviving on less for their whole lives. Now, when it comes down to a tightening of the belt, they know how to play the game and keep their jobs. They know how to stretch the last dollar and especially how to haggle with the other non-traditional avenues of money.

I really was lucky to get this job.

“Peeta, don’t forget to bring home that bolt of silk from the draper’s!” Delly yells from the top of the stairs. I have to shake my head – she’s one of the women who clearly don’t understand the tightening of the belt, not even a little bit.

Sometimes I question why we’re even engaged.

“I’ve already told you, we can’t afford it right now!” I shout in reply, pulling my laces tighter until the left one snaps in my hand. “Shit,” I grumble.

“Hey – The elevator drops in 15. We need to go or we’ll get canned,” Gale reminds as he pokes his head inside the door. Tossing him the snapped lace I rush to the cabinet and pull out a roll of tape. Quickly and with deft hands I fasten my boot to my foot with the silver material and grin sheepishly at Gale. I hear Delly on the steps behind me and I push the other man out the door, attempting to escape before she can regale me with another complaint about her lack of pretty things.

“Peeta!”

The door has already clapped shut behind me and I lift my hand in goodbye, rushing to catch up to Gale who’s laughing heartily in front of me.

“Trouble with the missus?” He prompts as we climb over the hill through what remains of the forest. There was a fire here not a week ago which stripped the land of its nourishment. At least it opened up a shortcut to the mine.

“She’s not a missus, yet,” I reply and try to avoid his stare as we walk.

Though I’d never say it out loud, I’d settled for Delly long before the drought had struck. Our families had negotiated our relationship back when we were just kids – it had worked out that in the end, we would share equal family properties when our parents retired as long as we stayed together. The bakery would stay with me, as long as I stayed with Delly.

My mother had always been the main instigator in the arrangement, as she often liked to remind us. My father, on the other hand, had known me better. He’d known of my penchant for long dark hair and olive skin, the kind of infatuation that ten year olds excel at. He’d also taken notice of the fact that that infatuation didn’t go away all through my childhood. In all honesty, I’d harboured it for years, until I’d noticed from afar that she’d already found her partner and married.

I asked Delly to marry me not a month later, settling my dreams in the dark back of my mind with the reminder that every kiss, every touch, was more of an arrangement than a desire. I hadn’t thought it would be so bad, to be married to my lifelong friend. And so I’d agreed to my mother’s arrangement and made a promise to Delly and my family in return for a decent life at the helm of Mellarks.

We’d initially planned to get hitched this summer, but when things took a turn for the worse with the drought and my family moved on to District 2, we postponed the ceremony in an effort to save money. As the months had passed though, it had become increasingly clear to me that the persistently positive woman I’d known since I was a child was no more than somewhat of a spoiled brat. The stress of the situation was quickly making me reconsider whether it was really worth all the hassle to keep my promises to my family and the Cartwrights.

Again, something I would never say out loud.

“Well, if you ever do need a break, Katniss and I just finished building the spare bedroom in the back. You’re more than welcome to hide out whenever Prim’s not in town visiting,” He suggested as we crested the hill and the soot of the mine became tenfold over our boots.

“Yeah, sounds likely,” I mutter. In all honesty, though it was a nice gesture, I would never stay with the Hawthornes. Before I’d found out that they were together, I’d dreamed about Katniss like any teenage boy would. She was amazing – strong, smart, beautiful – I’d thought we were destined for each other. But then she’d been looped into marrying Gale when her mother moved south and I’d watched her slowly slip through my fingers.

It took less than a month for me to propose to Delly after that.

So I’m pretty sure what I did was _settle_.

“Ready for another day in the shaft?” The old man who operated the lift asked us wearily, knowing how miserable the underground was for the men who spent twelve hours below.

“Always, Smits,” Gale boasted and shoved me in the elevator, pulling the gates closed behind us. We were the last ones to arrive and it didn’t take long before the click of the gate locking and the gears rolling pushed us down below the surface.

I felt Gale shove my helmet onto my head with a heavy hand, and I had a moment where he reminded me of my oldest brother. I’d met Gale my first day in the mines – he’d been assigned to show me the ropes and operation of the machine. Though I’d known him in passing – and more obviously as Katniss’ husband – I hadn’t really had a clear picture of this man until the day I saw him underground.

He was a madman down under, constantly cursing the job and the government and everything he could rip to shreds with his words. There were two things in his life that he valued most over everything – Katniss and the forest. He’d never spoken ill of them, not once, and it showed with every conversation I had with him about Delly.

After that first day, he’d basically taken me under his wing. I’d been grateful, though a little confused, by his actions. I’d spent the better half of the last few years of my life thinking only jealous thoughts of this man and now here he was, counselling me on life and love and keeping everything in perspective. It had thrown me through a loop but I’d easily come around.

It wasn’t hard, liking Gale Hawthorne. And though that sucked for me, I _was_ glad that Katniss had him in her life. She needed something good in her life.

“Alright boys, today we’re hitting the east wall. Secall, Morris – you’re on lead. Grab the cage and remember if that little darling stops singing...” The shift leader called out and began heading down an alternative route. Gale and I stumble along after our team leads as we headed down into the tunnel systems.

I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the feeling of being down this deep. When you get down this far, the air is heavy, your ears pop, it feels like you’re eating dirt, and you never get to enjoy a sunlit lunch. The tour I went on in the fifth grade had not even scratched the surface of what it would be like to work down here every day.

Or maybe I just hadn’t taken it seriously because I hadn’t thought I’d ever have to work down here.

When we were finally in place to start the day, neither of us spoke until lunch time. Within the first hour I was already coated in a thick layer of sweat and soot, my skin blackened and my eyes bleary from the dust.

By lunch time, I was nearly beat. Coughing heavily, I took a seat near the end of the row and pulled out my canteen of water, sucking the cool liquid back with a good helping of coal along with it. I was past the point of caring. I was past the point of giving a shit about much else.

“You look tired,” Gale stated, sitting down heavily next to me as he pulled out a sandwich from his pack. If he wasn’t the only six-foot-something guy down here, I’d barely be able to tell it was him for all the dust on his face. I probably looked like a zebra or something with my white skin below the streaks of black.

“I am tired,” I replied, biting into my carefully portioned slice of cheese. “Delly had me up half the night showcasing her dresses for the winter gathering.”

“You do know that that’s not for like... A couple months, right?”

“I do – but whatever makes her happy. I mean, I love her, but Christ, sometimes I just want her to sit quietly with me and not hop around the house like she’s five years old...” I can see Gale quirk an eyebrow at me, barely defined but for the hint of clean skin in the creases of his eyelids. “What?” I ask through a mouthful. He shakes his head and bites again into his lunch.

The hour passes in near silence as we take the time to rest and enjoy our meager lunches. When the bell rings out for us to get back to it, I stand and grip my pick, swinging it back and forth as Gale saunters ahead.

“What’re you up to this weekend?” I ask after a while, pacing out my swings a little more slowly. I _am_ tired, but I’ve got to keep working no matter what.

“Taking Catnip out on a hot date to the forest. I’ve got Saturday off so we’re going to get some... Outdoors time together,” He finishes with a little laugh. Most outsiders would think he was hinting at getting laid, but I’ve come to know him far better than that. They’re going hunting – the one thing that’s still forbidden in this country and the one thing that keeps them eating better than anyone else in the District.

“Sounds like a treat,” I grumble and swing the pick harder, taking out my jealousy of his life on the rock face in front of me. 

The rest of the shift passes in relative ease, considering the way my muscles begin to protest around hour ten and the difficult way my lungs start to heave around hour eleven. We’re thirty minutes out of being called to board the lift when I feel the ground below me tremble slightly. I look around, judging the other men to see if they’ve felt it as well. Everyone continues to swing their picks or lift their shovels, unaware of what I’ve probably imagined.

I know I haven’t when the ground shakes again and dust falls from the ceiling. It’s eerily silent for a moment.

It’s then that I realize, there’s no more singing.

Gale already has me by the collar, hauling me towards the elevator shaft as the men behind us shout in panic and fear.

“Get on! Go!” He screams in my ear and I burst through the lift gate and into the back. The ground below vibrates again and Gale punches the lift button frantically. Another man jumps on just as we’re about to close the gates and I see it, the collapsing rock, the flickering flames. I feel my body shoved into the corner of the cage, my face pressing against the hard metal mesh.

An explosion rocks out behind us as the lift rises up into the air. We’re thrown forcefully around as the vibrations ring out. I can’t tell whether my ears are ringing from the blast or from the screams or from the changing pressure of the depth. My brain struggles to keep up as my heart beats.

“We’re almost to the top,” I yell wildly, gripping Gale’s uniform sleeve. We’ve almost made it out. We’re almost there.

We breach the surface and the gates are pulled open as men from the next shift change come rushing at us. They’re yelling commands and barking orders as we’re pulled from the cage and dragged away from the shaft. I still can feel the heat of the flames sparking up at us as my body shakes from the adrenaline.

“Are you alright?” A man is barking into my face as he crouches over me. I nod and he taps my shoulder. “We’ve got a live one over here!” He calls out and steps away. The guy next to me isn’t so lucky. In another moment a woman is at my side, her hands running over my limbs as she tells me calmly what she’s doing. Checking for blood. Checking my bones. Checking sensory points.

“Looks like you got lucky,” She states and then gasps. I feel her hands on my wrists and I struggle to look up. She’s got my hands in hers though they don’t look like my hands. One arm is charred up the side, the other’s palm is criss-crossed with black burns from where I’d gripped the metal cage. I feel the scream building in my throat as the shock kicks in.

There was an explosion. In the mine. Fire. People are dead. I can hear them confirming deaths all around me. More dead than alive.

“Gale!” I shout inside of the fearful scream that’s still building inside. I make to move but the woman pushes me back down, pouring water onto my hand and arm and making it sear in pain. “Where is he?” I yell and try to sit up again.

“Calm down, we’ll find your friend,” She says again and pulls a tin can from her pack. The salve she rubs onto my skin burns like a thousand suns and I nearly pass out from the pain that licks at my nerve endings. My skin is on fire. I was on fire.

“I need to know if he’s alive!” I scream. The panic really sets in then. I don’t remember the next while, the screaming and shouting that surrounds me. I feel the woman wrapping my arms in gauze and humming to me quietly as everyone else around us walks with a purpose.

The controlled chaos only seems to last a little while before people from the town begin to show up. Husbands and wives and children and lovers are all at the gates, screaming for their loved ones. They must have felt the ground shake, a tell-tale sign that something has gone extremely wrong down below.

“Gale!” I hear it then – Katniss is yelling. Somehow she’s gotten past the guards that block the gate. She’s somewhere above my head and I hone in on her voice. “Gale!” She screams again and I hear feet whip past me. There’s a stumble of a body next to me and the woman wrapping my arms startles.

“Miss, you can’t be in here!” She shouts but stays put. I say a small thanks that she didn’t intervene. But then I realize that she didn’t have to.

The heart wrenching sob that cracks next to me brings a chill to my spine. Katniss isn’t yelling anymore. Turning my head to the side I see her out of the corner of my eye, leaning over the body that lies next to me. I remember then what the man had said.

“Blunt trauma from the explosion. Third degree burns. No chance.”

“Gale!” I shout then again and the woman ties off my gauze and leans back, silently giving me permission to move. I crawl over next to Katniss and look at my best friend. His eyes are wide and grey and dead. “No, no!” I reach over and shake him but he doesn’t awaken – the light doesn’t come back and his body remains still. “Fucking wake up!” Screaming, I pull at his shoulders trying desperately to get any reaction from him.

Nothing.

He’s gone.

He’s dead.

“Like my father,” Katniss whispers next to me. I notice her then, her tear streaked face silently dripping tears as she holds Gale’s hand tightly in hers.

“Katniss,” I say her name and it burns on my lips. When she looks up at me, our eyes lock for just a moment before they fall back to Gale’s body below us.

“You’re bleeding.”

I look down at her words and notice the blood seeping through my gauze.

“Oh.”

It takes me a moment to realize that she’s pulled my hands in her lap and that she’s ripping the edging of her shirt into bits. Grabbing the gauze that the woman had abandoned, she stuffs the fabric into my palm and closes my hand over it. I can’t subdue the yelp of pain or the curse that slips from my lips as she wraps the gauze more securely around my hand.

“Peeta!” I hear women’s screams pouring into the loading area and realize that they’ve finally let the families through. Delly is right along with them, screaming and crying until she finds me kneeling next to Gale and Katniss. Falling into me she knocks me backwards and I cry out.

“Dammit, fuck!” I scream and Delly hustles off of me, apologizing as her hands flutter around my face. I groan into the sand as my back stings from the impact.

“Oh I didn’t know what I’d do! Oh!” She sobs next to me, wailing in between every breath. I spare a look over to where Katniss is leaning over Gale and brushing his forehead with the heel of her shirt, slowly removing the coal dust from his face. It kicks me then that Gale is gone and I nearly lose it. “Peeta!” Delly cries again and I look at her, tears blurring my vision as I say goodbye to my best friend.


	2. Chapter 2

In District 12, we don’t bury the bodies of mining victims. Instead we cremate them and set them loose in the breeze in a Wind Ceremony, assuring them that they’ll never be underground again. It’s the last thing we can do to honour the ones we’ve lost.

I’m given a week off work to recuperate. I don’t leave my bed. I only see Delly when she comes in to change out my bandages. She chose to sleep in the guest room after I spent the first night screaming with nightmares. I try not to blame her, but it’s hard when all you need is someone to stay close and that one person can’t bear it.

In the quiet hours when Delly is out looking for work (something she despises doing) I can’t help but think of Katniss in her lonely house. I picture her sitting on the porch and staring at the trees. I picture her mourning for hours on end. The thoughts make me even lonelier and I promise myself that I’ll get to see her once I’m back at work.

On the fifth day, I’m down in the shop attempting to knead a loaf of bread with a pair of rubber gloves on. The pain of the movement shocks through my system but I’m determined to get used to it knowing that in a few days it’ll be a pick axe and not something as soothing as a rising loaf of bread. I’m just about to shove the tray into the oven when a knock comes from the front of the shop. I poke my head through the door and look out the windows to see a young woman on my stoop, her face pressed to the glass with her hands cupping the windows. She looks familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

“Hello?” I ask tentatively, opening the door as the woman stands and brushes herself off. She looks frazzled and worn, but none-the-less cheerful.

“Peeta Mellark?” I nod, furrowing my brow. “I’m Primrose Everdeen,” she states, watching me for any reaction. I nod again, unsure as to why Katniss’ little sister would be standing in my doorway. “Would you like to come over for lunch?”

“What?” The word sputters out of me before I have the opportunity to stop it. I’m sure it came out rude and insulting and I shake my head again. “Sorry, sorry,” I mumble, holding up my still-gloved hands. I feel my face flush pink as I realize and pull the gloves off. Prim laughs tightly and looks around to the nearly deserted square in front of the store.

“Things sure have changed around here.” I nod at her words and gesture for her to step in. Following me through to the back I hear her audibly sniff the air and sigh at the smell of the bread baking. Smiling sadly, I offer her a chair wishing I could give her more.

“I thought you moved away to District 1 for medical school?”  I ask when she’s pulled in her seat, leaning heavily on her hands.

“How’d you know that?” She responds quietly, squinting her eyes towards me. I look away out the window, out anywhere but at her as the conversation with Gale filters back through my mind. He’d told me about the day she’d left and how difficult it had been for Katniss to see her sister leave.

Now he was gone.

“Oh,” She quietly realizes after a moment. The air in the space turns tense as we both disengage. It’s the sound of the bread buzzer going off that snaps me back to attention and has me reaching for the bread in the stove without another thought. “Peeta!” Prim yells and I’m startled backwards as I swing around to look at her. Silently, she holds out a pair of oven gloves and I realize what I’d been about to do. I nod in thanks, slipping them on and reaching again for the hot pan.

“Sorry about that – I’m not really on page just yet. They said it might be a concussion or something,” I ramble on, settling the loaf and leaning heavily against the table as I try to right my mind more carefully.

“Come for lunch, it’ll be good for you both,” Prim murmurs and stands, grabbing my jacket and leading me towards the doorway.

I follow reluctantly, not wanting to intrude on Katniss and her mourning. She still hadn’t had her Wind Ceremony for Gale, which typically means that the family is not coping well. Some families in the District still had family members on their shelves.

I hoped Katniss wouldn’t be one of them.

Together we walk carefully across town, into the Seam, and down the row of houses until we see Katniss’ white picket fence. I’m caught up short again when it comes into sight, nervous at the idea that I’m the last person she would ever want to see.

“Why did you bring me here, Prim?” I ask quietly as the woman before me stops and turns around.

“She’s barely gone outside. She doesn’t talk. If I hadn’t heard it on the news, I wouldn’t have called Madge and found out what happened. You understand what she’s going through, Peeta. You loved Gale too. It’ll be good for you both,” she finishes sadly.

I want to turn and run. To go back home and hide out in my bed. I don’t want to face down my friend’s widow. I don’t want to face down the girl I loved since I was a kid. Turning around, I head in the opposite direction. Away from the memories and the nightmares and the sadness that eclipse me here.

“Please don’t go!” Prim shouts from behind me. I hear her feet clatter along the dust and stone behind me as she reaches for my shoulder. I stop dead in my tracks and fall to a crouch, putting my head between my knees and sucking in air until my head stops spinning.

“She doesn’t want to see me,” I say under my breath. Prim kneels down before me and rests her hands on my cheeks, guiding my head up to look at her.

“She doesn’t want to see anyone – not even me. But she needs to see you. She needs to know that it’s real and that she needs to keep living. Help me remind her,” she says, begging. She’s begging me to remind her sister that her husband is dead. That my friend is dead. The thought makes my chest hurt, and I have to squeeze my eyes shut to stop the tears from forming. “Just lunch, Peeta.” She guides me up, and we start walking again, my resolve fading with every step forward.

Prim leads me into the house and I’m shocked by just how different it is since the last time I came to pick up Gale for work. There’s a fresh coat of paint in every room and where a wall used to be there is now a front room. We slip together into the kitchen and Prim sets to work on sandwiches, pulling together a variety of small condiments that they still have in stock. I stand by the doorway stoically, watching her move around the space with such ease.

“I’d offer to help, but I’m still a little clumsy,” I mention, holding up my bandaged hands. Prim smiles and nods.

“Don’t worry about it – I’ve got this down to a science now.”

She finishes up the prep and motions for me to sit, disappearing out of the room like a summer breeze. I hear her quiet feet on the stairs, her voice calling out to Katniss.

“You’ve got to come downstairs. Just for a while,” I hear her plead above me. The girl stomps her foot when she’s still not getting anywhere, and I can’t take it any longer.

I slip from my seat, making my way upstairs through the rebuilt staircase and down the hallway to where I see light streaming from a room. Poking my head inside, I see Prim standing next to the bed, arms crossed over her chest as she scowls down at Katniss’ prone form. I take in the sight of her, the pale olive skin and the oily hair as she curls towards the empty spot on the bed facing the wall. Her hand lies outstretched, and something about the way it reaches towards the emptiness breaks a piece inside of me.

“Come down for lunch, Katniss,” I quietly ask, my voice startling Prim from her stance. She looks towards me with wide eyes and motions for me to leave. Instead I come closer, stepping towards the bed and sitting heavily on its edge. She stirs behind me, only minimally, but still it’s something. “Let’s eat up here – can we do that?” I look towards Prim who’s nodding her head, disappearing from the room as lightly as she came.

When I can hear that she’s downstairs, I sigh heavily into my hands, breathing through the pain that racks my bones being in this house.

“I’m sorry I didn’t save him,” I say quietly. I feel the bed below me shift again, and I turn to see that she’s rolled over and is facing me now, her gaze distant and wide.

“There was nothing you could do, I know that,” Her voice is raspy and stiff. I doubt she’s talked since the explosion.

“Still.”

We sit together in the longest silence I’ve ever endured. In fact, I’m sure Prim is giving us extra time in the hopes that I’ll work some magic over her sister. But I can’t – I can’t offer anything that I don’t have myself. All I’ve got right now is a sickness for him and a pulsing fear that everything will come crashing down around me.

When Prim finally returns, tray in hand with all of the sandwich fixings she’s rustled up, she places the tray on my lap and crawls onto the edge of the bed next to her sister.

None of us enter the empty spot.

* * *

There is no respite if I’m to keep making an income. Delly still hasn’t found work, and my leave from the mines was only for the week. Apparently they’ve arranged other duties that can be done with minimal use of the hands.

I can’t find it in myself to get optimistic about this. I don’t want to be down there, ever.

Come Tuesday morning I’m slipping on my boots when I remember my predicament from the last time I wore them. The right lace is still broken and unusable. I’d forgotten to find some twine since my last shift and now I am stuck having to tape it again. That isn’t the thought that made me late though.

No, I got caught up in the memory of Gale rushing me for work. I think perhaps I’m late on purpose, just to spite them all for taking him. 

“Mellark – you’re on bird duty today. Take the next lift down and find Rackon – he’ll show you where to check for leaks,” Gaius, the labour master, yells at me from the gates. My stomach drops at the realization that I’ll still be underground, and worse, I’ll be monitoring the only alarm system that hundreds of men have down there.

“Yes, sir.” My voice is a squeak on my reply, and the lift master laughs in my face as he lowers the trap into the mines’ depths.

Reaching the lowest level, I make to step off and instead find myself frozen in the lift. I can’t move, can’t breathe, as the thick air strangles the breath from my lungs and freezes the blood in my veins.

“Peeta, how are ya?” Bristel, one of our – my – crewmates, calls out to me from the lunch area, getting to her feet and approaching carefully.

She’d been on reverse shifts the day it had happened.

“Alive,” I joked, poorly. Grimly. We both smiled tightly in the dim light as the silence dragged out.

“Has there been a-?”

“No. I don’t think she’s up to it yet,” I interrupt abruptly. I know the crew is anxious about the ceremony – they usually are and I can’t blame them. It’s not uncommon at these depths to convince yourself that the dead are still walking. Some believe that the only way to see them through is to hold the Wind Ceremony and truly set them free.

“Alright, well, I’ve best get back to-“

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon,” I mumble and head off towards the main post.

Rackon isn’t a hard man to find as he stands too tall and too wide to be down this deep. He keeps his helmet tucked under his arm for his whole shift and somehow I can’t help but think that he probably has a death wish by now.

“Come to sing the tunes?” He states wearily, shoving a caged canary into my hands. I nod absently, looking into where the bird is fluttering around within its cell. “You’re taking this one down A5 – can you handle that or do you need some hand holding?”

“I’m fine,” I spit and head off in the direction of A5. I take my time, meandering through the tunnels at the slowest pace possible. Once or twice I get lost, always returning to the main point and restarting.

I do this for hours, methodically delivering the birds to endless destinations so that other men don’t suffer the same fate as me. Later on, I start to think that they’ve assigned me to this in the hopes that I see it as a useful act and not simply torture. Maybe there’s a kindness at work here.

But then one of the birds dies while I’m walking and I drop the cage, the sound clattering on the rocks and causing a panic in the tunnel as the workers around me flee towards the lift. I’m stuck to my spot, my feet rooted to the ground as my eyes never leave the bird carcass.

Perhaps death wouldn’t be so bad. If it’s just poison air – I’ll go peacefully, won’t I?

“Mellark! Get your ass in gear!” I hear Thom yell from down the tunnel, waving me towards the lift shaft with an urgency that I haven’t felt in forever. When I still don’t move, the man rushes towards me and grabs my arm, pulling me towards the elevator with a renewed force. He pushes me on and I crash into the grates.

The image of the explosion flashes back into my mind’s eye as we move upwards. Reaching the surface, I’m dragged from my memories by the sound of a siren wailing and emergency personnel waiting.

There is no hacking lung. No gasping for air. No fainting or burning skin. We are fine.

This time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks to PenelopeWeaving and Wildharp for their guidance and refinery on this here story.


	3. Chapter 3

“I heard there was a drill at the mines today,” Delly asks carefully, not looking at me from her place across the table. We’re sitting down to dinner but I’m not hungry for the little bit of roots that she’s pulled out of the vegetable cellar.

“Yes, just an alarm,” I respond solemnly, pushing the food around my plate. The silence drags on for a moment, so quiet that one could hear a pin drop.

“Must you go back there? Is there not other work that you could be doing?” Her voice is so desperate and shrill that it grates on my nerves, making my fist clench and my eyes shut tight. I just want some quiet. I’m just so _angry_.

“Have you found a job yet?” I bark, catching her off guard with my tone. Her eyes shoot to mine as though I’ve just slapped her.

“It is not my job to support this family!” She cries out and I see the grand show of tears and sobs building up within her. Oh Delly, such wild dramatics.

“There is no other work for men. Not that pays enough to support us both,” I snap and force some food down my throat. It’s not cooked fully and I can’t help but think that perhaps I’ll have to start doing the cooking too.

“But it’s not safe!” She screeches and I’ve had enough. Slamming my fist onto the table, I look up from my plate and stare.

“What would you have us do? _Starve_? Is that what you want? I can’t support us both on any other job. If you want to get a job, get one. But don’t try to convince me that what I do is unsafe! I know it is – I’m the one who lost a friend down there!” I’m nearly shouting now, surprising myself with my burst of anger. Apparently I’ve surprised her too as she sits slack jawed, staring at me from across the table.

“Get out,” She hisses sharply, setting her fork and knife down with such care. I cock my eyebrow at her, questioning what’s happening. “Don’t you ever raise your voice to me like your mother! Get out!” She screams it this time, standing and placing her hands on her hips.

Lifting myself from the table, I don’t hesitate to push aside my chair and bolt from the room. I’m through the kitchen and out the door before she can call me back. Halfway through town, I’m not even sure where I’m going until I’m standing at Katniss’ door, lifting my hand in the air as though to knock.

That’s when I falter, stepping back as I realize that this is likely the last place in the District I should be.

I don’t have time to escape though when Prim opens the door and bumps into me, yelping at the sudden contact and jumping back through the door. She drops her keys and slips on to her butt, sprawling out on the front entrance floor.

“I am so sorry – please, let me help!” I gasp and reach for her hand, making to pull her off the ground. I don’t expect the giggles or the gut wrenching laughter that comes from deep within her. It’s infectious and uplifting and I just never want her to stop.

“You just –“ She gasps in between words, rolling onto her side and laughing some more. “You surprised me!”

We’re both standing in the doorway now, sharing a laugh.

“I’m sorry! I just...” I pause, looking out into the street and hesitating on my next words. What _was_ I doing here? I had no right to be here – not at this time of day and especially not... now. Or ever. “I think I best be going,” I continue and step down off the porch. I’m halfway to the street when Prim calls me back and offers me a cup of tea.

“Perhaps just for a little while,” I mutter and take her up on her offer, stepping into the warm house and following her down to the kitchen. Looking around this time, I see that she’s made some improvements to the space, tidying the organization and adding a small bowl of flowers to the table.

“What really brings you here?” Prim asks after a while, looking up at me carefully over her now-cooled tea.

“Gale... Delly and I were having some problems. And on that last day he offered me refuge in the guest room. I guess...” I swallow the lump in my throat as I remember just how foolish this whole thing was. “She asked me to leave tonight and this was the first place I could think to go,” I finish in a rush and look away from the kind eyes before me.

“You’re always welcome here. Katniss would agree.”

I see Prim shrug out of the corner of my eye and I feel a little bit of guilt creep in. Here I am, hiding out from my wife-to-be in my dead best friend’s kitchen with his sister-in-law who’s here to look after his mourning widow who, by the way, has featured in one too many of my thoughts since I was five. There’s no place in hell for what I’ve become.

“I think I should go,” I mumble, realizing that this was likely a mistake. Katniss doesn’t need the burden of my troubles, not now. Standing up quickly I carry my mug over to the sink and dump it out, rinsing it in the cool water and then turning from the sink towards the front door. I’m caught off guard in my haste by Katniss who’s staring at us, chalk white and still in the doorframe of the kitchen. Prim is standing carefully by the table, watching her sister as though she’s a cat that might bolt at any minute.

“You’re out of bed,” Prim coos, setting down her glass and smiling brightly. My body tenses up as I look between the two girls, unwilling to intervene in the moment.

“I came to... Why are you here again?” Katniss asks, her voice still sounding rough around the edges. I can tell that my mouth is moving to give a response, but no words come out. Her shocked look quickly turns to a scowl, and I’m reminded of all the times I smiled at her in school only to have her scowl in return.

There’s still some Katniss left in her, just underneath the sadness.

“Peeta Mellark – tell me why you’re in my house or get out!” She yells when the silence carries on. Her fingers grip the doorframe and turn her knuckles white as she watches me, loitering in her kitchen. I never should have come here.

“He came for some tea, Katniss,” Prim interrupts when I still don’t have any words. I nod my head quickly, prepared to agree with any excuse that she has so as to keep the situation under control. I regret coming here even more now – I never should have barged into a dead man’s house and assumed his promises still lived.

“I should go,” I mutter quietly, stepping briskly towards the door and brushing past Katniss on my way. Her skin is cold to the touch as my arm grazes hers, and I almost stop to pull her into a hug to try to warm her up. But I don’t. I can’t.

Nobody says another word as I slip on my boots and head back out onto the street, closing the door quietly behind me.

I was a fool to come here. I was a fool to leave. Delly was at home and my promises were to her – I’d made those promises and now I had to keep them. Mellark’s never go back on their word. It didn’t matter that I needed more from her, and it certainly didn’t matter that bad omens were already screaming at us that this wasn’t going to work.

I had to make it work. That was the promise I made. Like my father had made to my mother when he settled for her.

“Dammit,” I curse under my breath, kicking the dust as I walk down the solemn road. I’m halfway out of the Seam when I hear the light fall of boots running up behind me, chasing me down.

“Peeta!”

I stop mid-stride, confusion worming its way through me as Katniss calls out from behind me. Slowly turning, my head cocked, I stare at her and her disheveled form. Her hair is still amuck and her boots are untied, though neither distracts me from the flush on her cheeks and the sad look in her eyes.

“Why did you come?” There was about ten feet between us as she gasped out the words, resting her hands on her hips. I turn over the question in my mind – why _had_ I come? Gale had offered, sure, that was a reasonable excuse. But somewhere inside of me knew I’d come because _she_ would understand – Katniss was the only one who would understand that I could talk to. I couldn’t withhold the truth anymore.

“You, I think.”

When she frowns at my words, I nearly turn and keep walking. The look on her face was enough to have me wishing I could take it all back. Wishing I’d realized that this was the wrong way to feel about your best friend’s wife.

Turning on my heel, I continue my long walk home, leaving her to her stunned silence.

“I’m pregnant.”

The words whip past my ears and stop me dead in my tracks. My chest tightens and I swear to god I think my heart will beat out of my rib cage. In another second, I’m pulling her to my chest and burying my face in her neck, holding her tightly as though there is no tomorrow.

She has Gale’s baby inside of her.

I should have saved him.

“Oh, Katniss,” I whisper into her skin, my fingers nearly bruising the soft flesh of her back as I clutch to her desperately. I feel the heavy sobs wrack through her body as she collapses in my embrace. Gently, carefully, I lower us down onto the dry earth and rock her against me.

In that moment, I make a silent promise to be there for her. To help her with this child as much as she’ll allow. She doesn’t have to face this alone – not for one minute.

* * *

We’d sat in silence for a long time, migrating to the meadow when the openness of the street was no longer comfortable. When she’d finally started talking, it had been a near flood of words while we sat side by side, hands in our laps and barely acknowledging each other.

I think it was easier that way for her. She could voice her fears about having children, about starving to death, about being alone, without having to actually face judgement for them.

She talked about Gale - though I don’t think I was truly ready to hear it. I’d listened anyways as she talked about the future they’d planned – how Gale had wanted a family, had wanted to move them out of the District and into the woods to live a better life. How the whole future he’d wanted had been something that terrified her.

“I never wanted kids,” she finished. I watched her out of the corner of my eye as she looked off into the distance to where the mine hid behind the tree line. Her lips were tight, and she was on the edge of tears again, barely holding on.

“Do you want them now?” I wasn’t sure if it was my place to ask. I didn’t really have a place, I guess, in retrospect. But she had options. She had to know she did, especially in the face of the drought and the lack of income.

It was silent for a long time as she thought it over. I hadn’t realized that I was holding my breath until she finally spoke.

“I want this one.” I nodded, acknowledging her choice.

This was something I understood. I’d watched Katniss enough to know that she and Gale had had something real despite her reservations. It was more than just a comfort that they’d fallen in to. She’d gone willingly, marrying her best friend and loving him truly. They’d been friends and lovers, much more than what the Seam had rumored them to be. And now her friend was gone. And mine was gone too. And all we had left of him was growing in her belly. 

“I’ll help you,” I stated carefully. I stared at her hand that was so close to mine, wanting desperately to hold onto it for dear life. She shook her head and moved to stand with me following close behind.

“I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You don’t need to. Gale... He was my friend. And you’ve got a piece of him, and I want to be there for you and for that child – I want to be in your life,” My voice was rising slightly, almost recklessly, as she stared me down with a frown.

“You have Delly. There’s no way you can take care of me and a baby and Delly on a miner’s wage.” She shook her head, stepping back and away from me. I didn’t want her to go.

“Wait,” I urged, reaching out and grabbing her wrist lightly in mine. She met my eyes reluctantly and the tears were back. “Katniss, I’m here. I’m going to help you even if you don’t want it. I’ll find a way – we’ll make this work together.”

“Stop dreaming, Peeta!” she shouted, interrupting my plea. “This isn’t how this goes. You don’t have a blood debt to me. Gale died, it wasn’t your fault. Don’t try to make up for something you couldn’t stop.” Shaking her hand free, she took another step backwards, watching me carefully as her words stung. “Gale and I...” She paused and I watched as the flurry of emotions passed over her. “We had a deal. We’d support each other – no matter what. We’d support our families without charity. He understood that. He wouldn’t want your charity, Peeta!”

“Maybe I want to help _you_ , Katniss,” I whispered and instantly I regretted it. It was too many cards to show – It was not my place. The words were out and hung in the air like a crackle of electricity, smouldering between us as she stared me down.

The resulting slap across my cheek surprised me and knocked me to the side. Reaching my hand to my face, I didn’t bother to look up at her, too ashamed at my own behaviour.

“You have Delly to think about. Go home, Peeta.”

I watched her feet stomp out of my vision as the beat of my heart slowed and my chest tightened. I’d said too much. I’d betrayed every promise I’d made.

She still loved him and there was no getting between that – even if I wanted to.

I’m not sure how much longer I waited in the meadow before finally heading home and finding the bakery dark. Upstairs, in the living quarters, it wasn’t much better. Delly was already asleep in the bed, curled up in all of the blankets that my parents had left behind for us. Carefully, quietly, I changed into my night clothes and slipped onto the mattress, curling up and tugging lightly at one of the blankets.

“Why did you come home?” Her voice creaks from beside me, and I realize that she was awake the whole time. I don’t bother to reply, knowing any answer I give is doomed from the start.

Sleep can’t come fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to emarina for her great thoughts on the depths of the story - hopefully I can string ideas along right so as not to disappoint.


	4. Chapter 4

Weeks go by and I continue my daily grind. I start to pick up more shifts at the mine, extending my days to fifteen hours, pulling watch duty as a regular add on and working Monday through Saturday. It gets me out of the quiet house where I no longer feel at home. It keeps me busy from thinking about anything too much. And it allows me to bank extra money for Katniss.

But I don’t tell Delly that part.

She still hasn’t gotten a job, clearly refusing to do any work that she considers ‘below her’. Every time she says it I struggle not to scoff, holding my tongue when I want to snap that I’m in the mine every day when my skill sets clearly lie elsewhere.

Dinners are always tense now, rarely falling into the laughter that we used to share as friends, as the meals we have dwindle in size and our cheekbones become more prominent.

I know she blames me – often – for our lack of food. But it’s not something that I can do much about. Sure, I could divert more money to the butcher or the grocer, but the price of food has sky rocketed and would do little to line our bellies much more. Especially in light of the increasing rationing effort which has dwindled the reserves for couples. We barely get enough rice now to make it through the month, let alone any tinned vegetables on the side. There just isn’t enough food, no matter how much money you have.

Nearly everyone in the District is suffering now, as the Capitol sends down more laws and more Peacekeepers to keep the illegal trade under control. We’re particularly desperate around here and apparently the solution is more guns, according to the Capitol.

Tonight is no different than last. I set our plates, scoop out the meager portion of potato that we’ve decided on for today, and pour some peppermint tea. I don’t bother to call her for dinner, knowing that she clearly will loiter in the other room for as long as possible to ignore the meal.

Or to ignore me.

“Peeta, I’m going to eat in here tonight,” She calls, lifting her plate and carrying it into the front room. I don’t move, not willing to argue. Instead when I’m finished, I wash up my dish and slip out the back door into the darkening night, disappearing down the yards until the roads cross.

I wander for a while, no specific destination in mind except for the determined opinion that I can’t stay in that house any longer tonight. I walk for hours, slipping by the dried out community growing garden, I head off towards the fence and the tree line. Approaching it slowly, I listen for the buzz of electricity that Gale had taught me about the one time he’d taken me into the forest. When no sound comes, I don’t hesitate to lean against the metal wiring, allowing the give and take of the fence to methodically rock me as I shift on my heels.

 Time seems to pass by in slower increments as I stand here. The light fades but it doesn’t disappear, and soon it’s dusk and the bugs are out, landing on my exposed skin and feeding off of me like a carcass. I hadn’t realized I’d been exhausted until I stopped here to think, slowly becoming overwhelmed with my predicament and realizing that something will have to give be it the drought or Delly or work or my life.

That’s the moment when I see her, struggling to slide under the fence on her back as her small bump gets caught on the wire. I hear her curse as she shifts her body, pressing the wire back with her hands as she pushes with her feet. In another second, she’s free and pulling her game bag behind her, tossing it over her shoulder and looking around for any witnesses to her crime. When her eyes land on me, her face tightens and she frowns just before she bolts off towards her house.

I don’t go after her – she doesn’t want me around, that’s clear enough.

Instead I wander back home, slipping into the living quarters through the old staircase off the side and winding my way into the guest room which was my room as a kid. Delly had somehow taken the master bedroom at some point, and I just didn’t have the energy to ask for it back.

The next morning, I’m up just before the crack of dawn, tying my boots on and packing what little food I can spare for my lunch. Just as I’m about to step out the door my eyes travel to the ground and fall upon a little brown bag sitting on my porch. Glancing from side to side, I search for whoever left the bag, unsure of its contents and wary of what hides inside. I know that nobody bears ill-will towards me, but still, the District has changed since food got scarce. Everyone is a bit more suspicious, I guess.

I reach down and pick it up carefully, opening the lip and glancing inside. The small wrap of goat cheese and the cooked and wrapped bit of squirrel meat has me grinning sadly.

There’s only one family that could prepare or share this combination of food right now and the thought leaves me aching. With great care, I rewrap the package and stuff it in my bag, surely taking it for my lunch and promising myself that I’ll find a way to repay them, whether they want it or not.

* * *

I wait for her by the fence, loitering against it like I did the other night. Neither she nor Prim answer the door when I stop by and I can’t help but think that perhaps they’re trying to avoid me which is foolish if they’re going to bring me food.

“You know, it could turn on and shock you to death before you’d even realized it,” Katniss shouts from the other side of the fence, sauntering up to the wire as much as a pregnant woman can saunter. She looks like she’s glowing and I feel the fear and worry I’ve been holding inside me dissipate a little at the sight of her.

“Maybe I’d welcome it,” I mumble in return and walk over to the little hole that she intends to climb under. When she’s halfway through, I reach out an arm and offer to pull her the rest of the way.

“Thanks,” She nods as she brushes off her pants. I try to tear my eyes from her belly but it doesn’t work – I can’t help it and she notices. Clearing her throat, she raises an eyebrow when my eyes meet hers and I smile sheepishly.

“Sorry – it’s just...” I shake my head and look off to my left and away from her piercing grey eyes. “I wanted to thank you and Prim, for the food the other day. You didn’t have to do that.”

“But I did. Peeta, have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re half the size you were before the explosion. You need to eat,” she insists. I shrug my shoulders half-heartedly.

“Would if I could. Either way – thank you. I wanted to stop by and give this to Prim,” I hand her a small ribbon. “For that cat, if she still has it. I tried to stop by the house but nobody answered so...” I fade out, shifting on my feet as the words hang awkwardly in the air between us.

“We’re not living there right now,” she states carefully, and I can’t help the shocked look that crosses my face as I snap back to look at her.

“What?”

“Prim... She spoke with mother who called up an old friend who used to live in the Seam when we were young. She asked him to take us in until...” She paused, and I caught her resting her fingers gently over her abdomen. “Do you know Mr. Abernathy?”

I shake my head no, though I’ve heard rumours that he’s a bit of a drunk.

“Well, he took us in, and Prim’s going to stay until at least this happens, and then maybe I’ll move back,” Shrugging, her hands move to her hips as she shifts her weight on the balls of her feet.

“That’s good then. I’m glad,” I offer. It’s the best I can do, knowing that I wish I could be the one helping her. “I guess I better be going.”

I begin to head off in the direction of home, making a quick retreat before the mood between us can sour like it did the last time. I’m pulled up short by her quick call of my name. When I turn back, I see her toss something towards me and I catch it easily, opening my palm to reveal a small gold key.

“Prim – she told me what Gale offered you. If you need it,” Her words flutter out as I look down at the key, turning it over and smiling sadly. I feel the tears prick at the back of my eyes and I have to blink before I can look at her again.

“Thank you,” I whisper in return and we watch each other carefully for another minute before she’s gone, disappearing off into the darkness surrounding us.

* * *

I try my best to stick it out, even going so far as to make attempts at jokes and the laughter which used to fill the house. It gets me nowhere but back to miserable and spiteful which in turn sours us even more. When the first snow comes, it’s not with a shout or a snarl but a tiny voice that she asks me to leave. She’d slapped me and I’d raised my hand, so trained to my mother’s old habits that I’d just barely caught myself before swinging it downwards.

Realizing myself, I stepped back against the wall, putting as much distance as I could between us. Her wide eyes had not blinked nor lessened in size as I watched the horrors in my mind play out. The voice had been a whisper, and I’d run, not walked, from that house and what I’d become.

The quickly deepening snow was what pushed me towards Katniss’ house, clinging to the key in my fist so that it bit into my palm and nearly drew blood. I arrived on her doorstep, shivering in my thin wool sweater and knocking briskly. No answer came. Turning over the key in my hand, I looked at its reflecting light and slid it into the lock, turning until the click and swinging the door opened to reveal an abandoned house.

I set to work immediately, stoking the fire with the remaining stacked wood and putting on a pot of water to boil. The tasks were menial but keep me busy until my eyes beg to close and my body grows weary from another extended shift. Removing my damp shirt, I pull the heavy blanket that hangs over the couch around my shoulders and lie down on the cushions. I don’t watch the fire flicker in the hearth for long before I’m asleep, drifting in and out of nightmarish fits.

Waking up, the first thing I’m aware of is that I’m late for work. The sun is too high and the light is too bright for it to be breaking dawn. I curse, throwing my legs down to the floor and standing with a start. It’s then that I remember I’m not at home. That I’ll have to face Delly to get my uniform. And her silent wrath.

“I just want to check that everything’s alright. Snowfall changes-“ The voices on the porch catch my attention as they stutter to a stop, realizing that the door isn’t locked. I don’t move, terrified that I’m about to be caught for squatting when the door swings open and Katniss steps in. “Oh!”

“I’m sorry, I thought-“ I start, hoping to explain my case before they banish me.

“Peeta! You just surprised me, that’s all. Don’t worry about it,” Katniss shakes her head and allows Prim to follow in after her. The younger woman beams at me and I can’t help but notice the small smile that tugs at Katniss’ lips. I don’t stand around for long, tidying up the small mess I made around the fireplace and refolding the blanket. It’s then I notice my sweater is on the ground and I’m standing half naked in the Hawthorne residence.

“You don’t need to rush; Katniss just couldn’t stop fidgeting about getting outside. Besides, we wanted to ask you over for dinner soon, didn’t we Katniss?” Prim queries, lightly poking her sister in the ribs with her elbow. The woman frowns tightly at her sister and then nods towards me.

“Sometime this week?” She squeaks. I try to withhold my nervous laughter; I doubt I’ve ever heard her speak so oddly before.

“I work until late in the evening usually,” I state, slipping on my shirt and intentionally giving her an out if she really doesn’t want me around.

“We’ll have it around eight – on Thursday?” Prim continues and shoots daggers at her sister. I watch the two as they have a silent conversation that’s very clearly about me. “We’d love to have you Peeta, get a good meal into you,” Prim finishes, finalizing the plans. I recognize then what they’re trying to do. They’ve seen the way my ribs feature prominently in my chest and the way the muscle has drawn down more to ugly bone.

I feel guilty and embarrassed, too proud to admit that I want nothing more than a meal that consists of more than one serving of vegetables. Looking away and out the window, I don’t attempt a reply.

“I’ve got to get to work,” I mumble instead, pushing towards the door and through its frame before either woman can stop me. Physically at least – they both shout from the porch.

“Where’s your coat?” Katniss calls.

“See you Thursday,” Prim finishes and I can hear the smile in her voice. 

I make my way home in a hurry, hoofing it through the deserted streets and snapping the door against the wall on my way into the house. Delly scurries from where she has her head in the fridge, stepping back and trying to place an innocent look on her face.

“Where were you last night?” She accuses. I slide her a withering look as I disappear up the stairs to grab my coveralls. I’m back in a flash, buttoning up the front and pulling out a chair to stuff on my boots.

“Don’t ignore me!” She snaps and I sigh heavily, pulling on the strings so that the boots cut into my circulation.

“You told me to get out! What more do you _want_?” I bark in reply.

“Be honest with me! I deserve that!”

I stare at her for a long while – or at least it seems that way – as she hides in the corner of the room. Her tongue darts out hastily and licks the crumbs from her lips. She’s been eating the rations.

“I think you should move out,” I mutter. It’s the most honest I’ve been in years.

Her unfair eating, her lack of commitment to this relationship, hell _my_ lack of commitment, it’s all shoved me past the point of wanting her here, in my house. And it is _my_ house, after all. At least, as part of the agreement I made it is.

The stunned silence that meets me doesn’t surprise me. Instead of bothering, I finish with my boots and slip out the door, off to the mines for another day in the depths.

“You’re late, Mellark,” Smits calls out, and I shoot him a wary look, knowing it will convey everything I need it to. When he nods in reply, I slip into the gated elevator and sink deep below the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say I am absolutely blown away by all of your amazing reviews! Love you all!


	5. Chapter 5

I think I’ve come and gone from this porch about a dozen times before I finally get up the courage to knock on the door. Raising my fist, my other hand wrapped around the flowers I’d picked on the way over, I step forward and reach to connect my knuckles with the heavy wood. The door swings open before I can connect and I’m caught, mouth open like a fish, as my hand hangs in the air.

“Finally!” Prim grins and gestures me inside. “We thought you were never going to knock,” She continues and pulls on my hand, forcing me across the threshold and into the foyer of the biggest house I’ve ever seen. All the lights are on and I can’t even imagine the electric bill for operating this place. I whistle lowly before I catch myself, a flush of colour creeping up my cheek and neck.

“Nice place,” I mumble and slip off my shoes at the door, aligning them with the baseboards as my mother had taught me.

“You came,” Her voice rings out before me and my throat tightens at the sound of it. Katniss stands in the doorway of the kitchen with a cooking apron on that clearly outlines her growing belly. I lick my lips hastily and try to smile.

“I... I brought flowers. I hope that’s okay I didn’t have-“

“Don’t worry about it!” Prim interrupts and pulls them from my hands. “They’re lovely; I’ll put them in a vase.” I nod slightly and step after her, joining them in the kitchen to stand awkwardly by the table. The smell is amazing and my stomach growls viciously, easily giving way how hungry I am.

“Can I help with anything?” I ask, stepping forward and motioning uselessly with my hands. I feel as though I should contribute, desperate to provide any part to this meal that is almost unheard of in these times.

“Not really, I’m almost done,” Katniss replies with her back to me, slowly stirring something that I’m quite sure is gravy on the stove top. I don’t know which looks more delicious.

“Peeta, sit. You’re our guest tonight!” Prim insists as she turns back to the table with the glass vase in hand. I pull out the chair reluctantly, slipping onto it as I watch the girls finish setting the table and dishing out the food.

“Abernathy, we’re eating – get your ass down here,” Katniss calls out, a slight flush on her cheeks when she turns around to me. “He can be a bit... temperamental. Just a warning,” she whispers as I hear the heavy feet stomp on each stair he treads on. I wipe my sweaty hands on my pants and stand, offering him a hand to shake as I introduce myself.

“Don’t worry kid – I ain’t her pops. Don’t have to impress me,” He chides, thrusting himself into a chair and starting to eat with haste. I sit down quickly and notice that both Katniss and Prim are smiling tightly towards me.

The small talk throughout dinner is minimal at best, barely ever breaking out into a full blown conversation. To be honest, I’m not completely sure that I could keep up with any talking points after the first few mouthfuls of the rich food drives me into a mad dash of eating. Halfway through my plate, I sit back with a rush, breathing heavily as my stomach turns.

This isn’t good – not good at all.

“Excuse me, sorry,” I flush, embarrassed. “Where’s the washroom?” Pulling the napkin from my collar I shoot out of my chair and, nearly panicking, swivel my eyes down the hallway which I came from. Katniss watches me worriedly as Prim looks up at my strained face.

“Down on the left. Peeta are you-“ She doesn’t get to finish her question as I shoot from the room, letting my stomach reject the heavy food that I haven’t had a chance to enjoy in far too long. The sound of my retching brings the girls running as I hear a bark of laughter from the kitchen where Haymitch must surely be mocking me. I can’t bear to look at them as Katniss hovers over me and rubs my back.

“Prim, run and grab a cool cloth, would you please?” she whispers.

The girl flies from the room as Katniss struggles to get on her knees beside me. I try to wave her off, but she insists while she continues her soothing motion. The touch of the cool fabric on my neck brings me out of my daze until I register fully that I’m hunched over a toilet in some stranger’s house puking up the best dinner I’ve tasted in months. My cheeks blaze and I groan, lifting to my unsteady feet.

“I should go home,” I croak, leaning on the counter.

“Stay for some tea first,” Prim insists and disappears again from the room leaving Katniss and I to stand awkwardly in the bathroom.

“I’m sorry – it was good I just don’t think-“

“Don’t worry about it. I used to have this too, when I was trying to make ends meet after my father died. Couldn’t eat a big meal without losing it at the end,” she whispers. I realize then that’s she too close – too in my space – and I have to step back.

“Katniss,” my eyes find hers and we stare at each other for a moment. My hands find my pockets when I have the urge to reach for her and draw her into my embrace. The air around us gets tight and I notice then that we’re still in the bathroom; a place where I’ve just completely embarrassed myself. Subtly, I sidestep until we’re back in the hallway, heading away from the scene I’ve just created.

“Are you going to the winter gathering this weekend?” She startles me with her question, her hands resting on the bump of her stomach. I can’t stop the laughter that breaks free of me, completely forgetting that I was sick not five minutes ago.

“I’d planned to... But I’m not so sure right now. Things...” I answer when the laughter quits and Katniss leads me back into the kitchen where Prim is setting down cups of steaming tea for the four of us. Haymitch looks at me wearily and frowns.

“Didn’t get any on the floor – did ya?” He asks bluntly. I shake my head ‘no’ furiously and remain standing while everyone sits. “Well, sit down then. Might as well have a cup before heading out,” He urges and pulls out the chair beside him, thumping his hand down with one hand as he pulls a flask from his pocket with the other.

“I should really be getting home,” I insist, reluctantly sitting down and wrapping my hands around the mug.

“So, you’re not going then?” Katniss picks up our conversation as she watches me with a furrowed brow. There’s a good possibility that I’m in a trial and under oath as I force the answers from my lips.

“I don’t know,” I reply carefully as Katniss looks a little crestfallen.

“You have to come Peeta, you have to. It’ll be good to see everyone and there will be food!” Prim gushes but it feels a little desperate, even to me. I look at her square on, judging for any misgivings about what’s going on here. She breaks down immediately. “We’d really like you there, Peeta.”

“Maybe,” I answer lowly and duck my head to drink the hot liquid.

When it’s time to head out, Prim stuffs a sack of wrapped food into my hand and disappears down into the hallway, talking to Haymitch who still sits at the table which we’ve all vacated. Katniss follows me to the door, her hand constantly rubbing her swollen belly, as she follows me onto the porch.

“Thank you for the dinner,” I say, stepping down the porch steps and turning to face her. The smile that breaks across her lips leaves me breathless for a moment and I catch her eye before my focus falls to her hand. “Can I touch it?” I blurt out, realizing that my hand is already halfway towards hers.

“What? Uh, yeah, I guess. Sure,” Her confused words are high pitched and awkward as her hand shoots out and grasps mine by the wrist, pulling it to her bump and resting it gently. A chill sets out down my spine as my fingers splay across her stomach, my palm resting over her belly button, as she guides my hand with hers.

I breathe in excitedly, looking up at her and croaking out, “This is amazing.”

“I’m terrified,” she whispers in return. I see it in her eyes then, the quiet fear that permeates every bone in a mother’s body when she realizes that this is not a world to be born in to. Nodding slowly, I slip my hand from her belly and grasp her fingers in mine.

“I can help. Let me help you,” I urge, stepping closer and pulling her close against me. The tension she holds in her shoulders at first slowly slips away the longer we stand together, wrapped in each other’s arms.  “When the drought is over, when the rain comes, it will be better Katniss, it has to be.”

“’Til the rain comes, then,” she whispers in return, pulling away from me and turning back into the house without another word. It takes me a moment, standing alone on the porch, to consider what I’ve just agreed to.

Making my way home in the dark with my leftovers, I chance a look up in the sky and see the bright stars overhead. They’re gorgeous in the crisp cold air, and I want to marvel at them for hours as my breath escapes in puffs to the sky.

* * *

“Mellark, shift is over. Time to head up,” The foreman calls out and I turn from my pick, looking towards the shadowy light at the other end of the tunnel. I hadn’t realized that time had passed so quickly down here in the dark.

Making my way to the lift, I rise to the surface with familiar faces all covered in coal dust. Each day I see these men, slipping down into the depths clean and returning black. We’re all the same down here, with our sunken cheeks and our sallow bellies. The small coin that we do take home at the end of the week is pittance against the rising costs of food. We all know it but have no other choice.

“Good work today, boy,” Smits claps me on the shoulder and pulls me to the side. “You’re up for a promotion to shift leader kid – any interest?”

His voice carries over to the long line of exiting men who all seem to spare a glance in my direction. Not far off do I see Thom wander about, thinner than ever and somehow still standing. I know he’s got kids at home and the thought makes me sick. I can barely support myself, or Delly for that matter – I’ve no idea how he’s feeding all the mouths.

“Thom – give it to Thom, Smits. He needs it more than I do,” I mumble and step back. The old man nods in reply and calls Thom over, offering him the raise and the job right before my eyes. I try not to regret my words, knowing that it will go a lot farther this way.

My empty stomach and bare cold cellar when I get home almost make me regret that decision.

Shutting the door, I head out of the quiet house and into the bursting wind, heading towards where Delly is staying for the time being. I’m just about on her porch when the gust of wind catches in my coat and sends shivers down my spine. I look at the door, closed and dark, and then out to the forest beyond.

There’s a figure there, not far in, but it stands so still that I must be imagining it.

I’m drawn to it like a moth to flame. Taking a careful step forward, I head towards the shadow with a quickened pace, determined not to startle whoever it may be.

Of all the people, I don’t expect it to be Haymitch Abernathy. But there he is, watching the trees and the snow and the ice as it forms in the branches. I slow my step, stopping when I’m nearly ten feet away, unsure of whether this is a good idea or not.

“There’s so much water this winter,” he mutters out loud, surprising me by acknowledging my presence. I shift on my feet awkwardly, looking around at the barren field surrounding us. Only the fence keeps us from the forest now. “Baker by trade, eh?” He turns around to me then, and I notice the bottle swinging in his hand.

“Father left it to me, though it’s not much good now.”

His feet carry him away from the fence, towards the lines of houses and I debate whether I should follow him.

“Walk and talk, kid. If you’re going to be around, might as well know something about you,” he barks at me. I’m next to him in an instant, terrified of what it would mean if I didn’t have this man on my side. “Lots of water in the winter – doesn’t always mean a good summer. Are you prepared for that?”

“No. I doubt half of the District would make it another summer.” Let alone the rest of the winter, I don’t add out loud. There must be something in my voice that gives away my doubt or my fear or something because he stops mid-stride and catches me by the arms, holding me steady while his eyes meet mine. He smells, but only slightly, and I try my best to ignore it.

“Don’t make promises that you can’t keep, boy.” The fierceness with which he says it crawls inside me and roots itself, spawning instantaneous doubt and fear over the impending spring and summer months ahead.

It’s not hard to understand what he’s warning me about. He must have overheard me with Katniss, saying I could help. Apparently we both know how ridiculous it is to offer help when you can barely survive yourself. I just wish that it didn’t have to be that way for us.

In that moment though, I understand that no matter what, I will be there to help in any way that I can.

“She’s not alone in this, Mr Abernathy. That’s all I want to make sure of.” It’s almost a lie. The rest of the truth is that I want to help her with this child – I want to be there for her in any way that she needs me. I want to be the one that she needs.

“It’s Haymitch,” he reaffirms, his gaze searching me for something I don’t think I have in me. It’s another minute before he steps back, releasing me from his grip and looking back in the general direction of his house. “She’s got a lot of hurting left to do, and she can only do that on her own. Remember that.”

I stand in silence, watching him stagger back down the street in the cold evening night. His words have done more to remind me of her situation than I care to admit. When I’m finally able to move again, I abandon my plans to find Delly and head home to the bakery instead. Sleep overtakes my exhausted form before my head even hits the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy weekend everyone, I'm glad you're all enjoying the story so far and I hope I can keep you entertained!


	6. Chapter 6

“You promised that we would go.”

I lift the small loaves of bread from the oven while considering crawling into the hot coals and ending this tirade right now.

At least I’d be warm. At least maybe in heaven one of these loaves of bread would be for me and not intended for redistribution to the Peacekeepers and government officials in the District.

Today is the winter gathering. It also coincides with the monthly arrival of the rations supply train which brings me flour and other ingredients to bake the essentials for the leaders of the District, which in turn gets me a free pass from the mines. These days also tend to pay more handsomely than the mines – garnering me Capitol wages for the few hours that I work.

Not to mention any day above ground is something to cherish nowadays.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea?” I ask quietly, wiping my dusty hands on my apron and finally turning around to face Delly head on. She’s been loitering in my kitchen for what seems like forever, prattling on about the party and how we’re expected to be there. Part of me thinks she just came for the heat of the ovens, especially on a day like today where the temperature has dropped significantly. The New Year has not brought warm tidings. The other part of me, the one that recognizes that I haven’t seen her in a week, knows that she’s here in an attempt to save face in light of our failing engagement.

Neither of us try to kid ourselves anymore. It’s out of necessity now that we remain a ‘couple’ – reliant on each other in these hard times even though it seems more one-sided than we care to admit.

Before, we were together because we thought we could make the arrangement work – we thought we could build something more from our friendship to appease our parents. But now... Now we were just sticking it out to get the better ration supplies and coverage that the government gives to couples.

It’s a strange thing, if you think about it, that the Capitol wants all couples to reproduce as soon as they’re married. So much so that they bump your support packages by almost a third, even when there’s a drought or a disaster as bad as this one. They want more working bodies and couples are the ones that give it. So they do their best to bribe you through the hard times.

I’m not below admitting that this is - for me at least - the reason why I’m still with Delly. We’re both more likely to make it out alive if we stick together if only to get two _and a half_ tins of rice per month instead of one. I’d mostly given up on my mother’s wishes, I can’t remember when, but it had happened sometime since the starvation had set in.

“It’s a great idea! The supply trains arrived today and that means people will have a little something to share. We’ll get to see our friends.” She means her friends, mine is dead. “We’ll dance and have fun. Peeta, it’ll be good for us,” her desperate plea almost has me convinced that this would in some way be good for us. “Please?”

I stare at her long and hard over the cooling loaves on their racks. Though I appear on the outside to be debating, I know inside that I’ll already be saying yes. That I’m saying yes because Katniss will likely be there and it’ll be nice to see her again. Nodding in reply, I turn back to reloading the ovens as Delly claps behind me.

I try to smother the bit of me that knows I’m a terrible person for agreeing to this for any other reason than Delly. But then again, I can’t help what I feel and I’m too hungry and tired to try to feel anything else. The drought and the scarcity of food have pushed me to my limits and I’m just so _tired_ of trying.

It’s only later, when we enter the Justice Building’s main foyer with Delly in her pretty dress on my arm that I regret my decision to come. The people of the District, though determined to be cheerful, are clearly fading away just as I am. Through the smiles we all force, underneath is a sickness that’s tearing at us. Our bones jut and our bellies ache and there’s no other way to understand how we’re all surviving than to look at the buffet table and realize that the portions are nearly non-existent. No one dares to take a piece to eat for fear of seeming too greedy.

Instead of the grand party that is expected, people gather in groups around the minimal decorations, sitting at tables and chatting as though it’s just another day in the market. The event isn’t so much an _event_ as it is a reason for people to see one another and recognize mutual suffering.

I’m almost ready to pack it in and leave as I sit at a table with Delly and her friends, listening to their chatter about shoes and trivial items that they long to afford in these harsh times. My mind instinctively blanks out the conversation as my eyes scan the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of the tell-tale braid and the flicker of a green skirt before my ears pick up the conversation behind me.

“You know, these ones here that I’ve got on tonight – they were a bargain when I picked them up last week. It seems nobody wants to buy right now and Peeta just has all this money saved up and it just seemed like such a _waste_.”

Turning slowly back towards the table, I stare at her, begging her silently to tell me that I’ve heard her wrong. That she hasn’t spent the money I’ve put aside for Gale’s child on a pair of shoes.

“Peeta dear, what’s wrong?” Lila, Delly’s friend from school, gasps as she watches me. Her surprised exclamation has the whole table turning towards me as Delly’s smile quickly fades.

“Where did you get that money?” I whisper harshly, shifting away from her until we’re almost a foot away from each other. I want to run in the opposite direction, afraid of how I will react if my fears are correct.

“I just found the money tucked into your shoe in the closet. I thought it was for a special occasion like tonight,” she replies unsurely. “Can we not do this here?” she continues, reaching for my hand as she forces a smile to her lips.

I’m repulsed, stepping backwards from the table with such quickness that I never knew I had. Gasps fly from all directions as I feel the rage burn up inside of me and I struggle to hold it in check.

“That wasn’t yours, Del. How much did you spend?” My hands clench at my sides and I want to rip my hair out.

“Wait until home, please,” she whispers fiercely, imploring me with her eyes. 

“ _How much_?” I ask again, and I’m so close to the edge that I could throw up the bile in my stomach from all the anxiety that pulses through me.

“Just a hundred.” Her quiet admittance and the way she scowls has me stepping towards her, anger seething in me.

“That _wasn’t for you_!” I shout and half of the hall is startled into awareness. I don’t care – I can’t stop to shut myself up. I feel the control slipping from my fingers as the words begin to spill out. “That was for the Hawthorne baby – Katniss and Gale’s child. That was to _feed it, to clothe it_ , Delly – Not to buy you a fucking pair of _shoes_. Do you understand what you’ve done? Do you have any _idea_?”

I feel the eyes of every guest fall on me then, boring into me from all angles. When all I receive in response is a silent stare and a gaping mouth, I feel the exhaustion catch up and overwhelm me. Rushing from the building I escape into the dark cold night, slipping along the streets and trying to walk the anger out. It’s not long before I find myself locking the door to the bakery and barricading myself in my room.

In this moment, I’m not sure whether the anger that’s coursing through me is because of the fact that she spent the money I’d saved for the child, or that she’d gotten in the way of my helping Katniss. I don’t even want to consider going down that road tonight.

I can’t think. I can’t deal with the anger that’s flowing in me. Without warning my wardrobe is on its side, crashing to the floor and spilling its contents across the room.  The pair of shoes where I’ve been keeping the extra money tumbles out like a bitter reminder and I grab it, reaching my hand in for the remaining funds. Only four hundred dollars remain of the fifteen hundred I’d saved.

I’m sure that even the animals of the forest would have scattered in fear at the sound that ripped from my throat that night.

* * *

I change the locks on the bakery the next day. I pack up her things and leave them on the porch later that week. I relocate into the house that Katniss has leant me since it is both closer to the mines and as far away from Delly as I can manage. I’m still not over my anger at her theft despite her technically having a right to the money as my _fiancé._

Instead, I lose myself. I work harder, longer hours, asking Smits if there are any promotions opening up that they would consider me for.

I’d turned down the last one because I thought I’d been managing my saving right. Now I was desperate. And selfish.

“What’s the urgency?” Smits inquires after another consecutive day of me asking. He watches me wearily from under his helmet.

“Hawthorne’s baby – I was saving but-“ Holding up his hand, he stops me and shakes his head.

“Didn’t think the rumours were true ‘bout that,” He mumbles and looks over the papers on his clipboard. “I’ve got nothing right now, but keep at me. You’re a hard worker Mellark, and it’s an honourable thing you’re trying to do here.”

His words cause me to swallow thickly. _Honorable_. It’s almost laughable. What I’m doing is neither honorable _or_ respectful. I just want to help Katniss. The woman who is not my fiancé. The woman who is my best friend’s widow. The woman I’m not going to marry, nor will ever have the opportunity to truly be with. It’s not honorable – it’s pathetic and selfish. I want _her_ and I’m using the excuse of helping her to be close to her while everyone thinks I’m being honorable.

I want what I can’t have.

I guess though, there are worse things I could be doing than helping her.

It’s dark when I finally find myself heading back to my temporary home. Unlocking the door I flick on the kitchen light and stagger to the sink, running myself a glass of water which I substitute for the lack of food that makes my belly rumble hollowly. Turning towards the living room and the couch I’ve been sleeping on, I’m confronted with a sheet of paper on the table that wasn’t there when I left. Leaning over it, I read the messy scrawl that invites me over for dinner tonight.

I look at the clock and immediately disregard the note – it’s far too late to catch dinner now. Instead I stumble to fireplace and stoke the embers, settling into the cushions and sinking down into their warmth.

The sound of a chair tipping over and a shout of annoyance pulls me out of my sleep as my eyes try to focus in the dark. Looking towards the kitchen from my spot on the couch I try to make out the figure standing by the table, swearing quietly in the dim light of the fading fire.

“Katniss?” I grumble, my voice thick with sleep. Before I know it I’m in the kitchen and flicking on the light to illuminate her tousled form.

“Oh – I woke you, I’m sorry,” she murmurs, her fingers tucking her loose hair behind her ear. Her stomach has grown significantly, jutting forward as though she has a ball tucked under her shirt. The small smile on her lips makes me in turn smile, albeit tiredly.

“It’s your house, don’t worry about it,” I state and watch her from the doorway as she stands gripping a brown bag in her hands. The silence stretches out between us as she shifts from foot to foot, watching the floor.

“You didn’t come to dinner,” she states after a while, thrusting the bag towards me hastily. My fingers brush against hers gently as I take the bag from her and offer her a seat, slipping my tired frame into a chair on the other side of the table. We both ignore the tipped one to my right.

“I got home late – worked a double,” I mutter, trying to slow the speed with which I open the bag to reveal the cold plate of meat and cheese inside. I nearly groan from the smell, longing to eat it all right now despite knowing I should save some for lunch.

“Still – you should have come.”

I nibble on a piece of cheese for a long while, letting it slip over my taste buds as I savour its bite. Though I have many things to say, I dare not voice them out loud, fearing for the first time that my words are more of a hindrance than a help. It’s Katniss who breaks the silence, reaching for my restless hand across the table.

“I heard what you were trying to do,” she whispers quietly, watching me intently with her grey eyes. I don’t look away. I can’t.

“What I’m _doing_ ,” I correct, putting the present tense on her wording. I’m still going to help, even if it kills me.

“You don’t have to, Peeta. Gale wouldn’t want you to suffer for this,” her words catch me off guard, surprising me with their implication.

“I’m not doing this just for him, Katniss,” I state. I don’t know whether the next words out of my mouth are due to exhaustion or just pure mindlessness, but they’re the truest words I’ve spoken in a real long time. “I’m doing this for you. And for that child. Because I want to be in your life and her life and just – I want to help, okay? Let me help.”  

She doesn’t say a word and I can’t say I’m surprised. It’s a lot to throw out there, not simply the idea of saving money for another man’s kid. I’ve also admitted that I want _her_. There’s a difference.

“Prim says it’s likely a ‘he’.” Her voice croaks a little on the last word, surprising me with its honesty.

I look at her then, a grin forming in the corners of my lips. Her eyes sparkle in the low light of the kitchen and I try to relish in the smile that she’s hiding.

“Oh yeah?” It’s a whisper accompanied by a laugh that comes from somewhere deep within me. Maybe it’s joy. Maybe it’s relief. Maybe it’s sheer terror that she’s waiting to storm off after a delayed reaction. Who knows? All I know is that when my hand reaches across the table after finishing the piece of cheese, I’ve never felt more at ease than when she slips her fingers into mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think for some of you, this chapter will be good. For others... I don't know.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katniss' POV

I didn’t tell anyone before him. Not even Prim. Why am I telling him _now_? Why _him_?

Peeta Mellark barely _knows_ me.

I dig my nails into my palm as he freezes, stock still before me as my words sink in.

I don’t know what to expect. What I was wanting from him. I didn’t have any fucking idea what I was thinking when I flew out the door to chase him down. All I know is that as I stand here, my biggest secret floating in the air, I’m terrified that he’ll keep walking away. That he’ll leave. That I’ll have nothing left.

 “Oh, Katniss,” His voice is soft as he turns and steps back towards me. With his arms held out, I realize that I’m crying. When his arms wrap tight around me and give me his warmth, my body gives out and I sink to the ground.

I’m exhausted.

* * *

“Katniss, are you sure this is what you want?” My mother’s patchy voice creaks out through the telephone line of the pay phone in the town square. I let my fingers tangle in the wire, sucking in a breath while Prim watches me from her distant bench.

She made me make this call as soon as I finally told her what was wrong with me.

“Katniss?” Mother prompted again, bringing me back to focus. I didn’t want to talk about this. Not with her. Not really.

“Yes?” I quip and turn around until my back is pressed against the glass and I’m able to avoid my sister’s pensive gaze. I know she’s upset. With me. With Gale. My chest hurts.

“Do you want this baby, Katniss? Nobody has to know. You can come here for a while, we can take care of it and-“ I interrupt her sentence by audibly choking on my own bile, stumbling from the booth as my stomach churns with sickness. Prim’s at my side in an instant, rubbing slow circles on my back as I lean against my knees. All I can hear is the tap, tap, tap, of the phone against the booth’s wall.

I’m not sure how much time passes between when I sit on the cool stone of the square and when Prim comes out from the booth and joins me, kneeling before me and taking my wrist in her small fingers while reading her fancy Capitol watch. I’ll have to ask her where she got that.

“Your pulse is a little fast. Are you feeling alright?” Prim asks quietly as she helps me to my feet.

I’m fine. Except Gale is dead and I’m left here alone. I don’t say that though.

“Just nauseous.” I reply and begin heading towards home as Prim walks alongside.

“Mom was worried. Thought she’d upset you.” I nod slightly but keep my eyes staring straight ahead.

Please don’t make me talk about my options.

“She wanted to know if you wanted to go-“ I stop and twirl on her, holding up my hand and scowling with all the energy I can pull together.

“No. I’m not going there. I’m keeping it. That’s the goddamn end of it, okay?” I know as soon as it’s out that I was harsh. I can see it in her eyes, how they frown slightly and glaze over with unshed tears. “Shit, I’m sorry Prim,” I mutter and hang my head, no longer able to meet her eyes.

Prim is all I’ve got left now. Prim is everything.

Everything I guess, plus this baby. Instinctively my hand hovers over my belly for just a moment.

“Don’t apologize,” She replies, all trace of her previous feelings disappeared from her voice. “So, now. Mom wanted me to tell you that she’s going to make some calls. She says she has knows someone who could help here, Haymitch Abernathy? Apparently he won some tournament held by the Capitol when he was a kid and has been rich ever since. Mom says all he does is drink it away since his wife – Mom’s friend – passed away. She thinks he might take you in until you get settled, help you out financially-“

“Who says I need help with money?” I snap. My feet have already carried me halfway back across town when she brings it up and I’m appalled that she’d assume Gale didn’t provide for me. He did. We were living well.

Were.

My chest feels like it’s going to collapse in upon itself.

“I wasn’t saying that Katniss,” Prim interrupts the feeling I have of drowning, her hand holding tight around my arm. We keep walking and I can see the house in the distance – I long for our bed. My bed. “I just think that with the drought and all – things are going to get tough. It’d probably be easier if Mr. Abernathy is open to it. Katniss!”

I pull up short just before I reach the gate to my yard, startled by Prim’s sharp tone.

“What?” I ask lowly, hanging my head as though scolded.

“You’re _pregnant_.” She states and steps forward until we’re almost toe to toe. “You have to think about this now.” Her hand ghosts over my belly for just an instant before she places it on my cheek, her thumb brushing against my cheekbone.

When did my Little Duck grow up?

“I’ll go see him tonight – Mom said she’d call him immediately. Okay?”

* * *

Nope. This deal is _not_ happening. I’d rather starve to death. I’d rather get eaten by rats.

“Katniss, this is Mr. Abernathy,” Prim introduces him. I recognize him immediately from The Hob. He’s the town drunk. The man who swore black and blue when I traded the meat he was too drunk to negotiate for. I couldn’t stand him. Gale could barely tolerate him.

“It’s _you_ ,” I snarl and stand up from the table in my kitchen. I regret ever letting Prim bring him here. This was a mistake. I _knew_ anything from my mother would be bad.

“Nice to meet you too, sweetheart,” He grumbles in return. Prim, sensing the tension, breaks it by offering tea.

“Why don’t we all just have a seat and discuss the arrangement?” She quips and busies herself at the counter.

I remain standing while the man sits at my table heavily.

“Why are you here?” I snap. I can see the whites of my knuckles wrapped around the chair.

“I hear you’ve bitten off a little more than you can chew, and your Mum asked a favour,” He replies tightly.

“Oh Katniss, would you just sit down?” Prim hisses as she sets the cups of tea down before us. Hesitantly, I pull out my chair and take a seat, leaning away from the table with my arms crossed over my chest. “Haymitch has said we can live with him in the spare rooms. He’ll provide funding and shelter if we manage the house for him.”

“What exactly needs to be managed?” I reply tightly, my gaze never leaving the old man’s.

“Cooking, cleaning, grocer runs – stuff we already do here. But he’ll provide the money and the house. Plus, he has a basement full of dry food to get through the winter. It’s a good deal, Katniss,” Prim finishes and watches me as my nails thrum against the table.

“Best deal you’ll get, princess,” Haymitch mutters and shifts under my stare.

I consider it for a moment. Only a moment.

“No.” Getting to my feet, I head into the living room and face the rebuilt fireplace that Gale fashioned for us last winter. It’d been his pet project. Staring at it, I don’t even notice that I’m not alone until the voice speaks up from behind me.

“Don’t be a fool, Katniss,” Haymitch rumbles. I want to yell at him. To lash out and harass him for all the times he treated me like dirt in The Hob. But I can’t. All I can see is this fireplace in front of me. “Look, I know what’s happened. You’re smart – you know this is the right choice.”

“I don’t want to leave!” I shout, startling myself as my hands wrap tightly around my waist. The truth seems to bring about a tense silence until I feel a hand on my arm.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, but you need to. You need to get away from this house for a while. Give yourself a chance to breathe before things get hard. Don’t be stupid,” He states.

I know he’s right. Goddamn Haymitch Abernathy is smarter than most – I know that. But the thought of leaving my _home_ , where I remember Gale, terrifies me. It hits me then that this child will never know his father.

If we even make it through the winter.

The choice is clear.

“Fine. But I’m never cleaning up your vomit.”

* * *

I need to get out of this place. I can’t stand it here most days, suffocating under Prim’s tentative gaze or listening to Haymitch stumble around in his room upstairs.

Thankfully, he retreats up there when he gets too surly to be around. It’s the only saving grace I have now that I’m stuck here.

But at least there are meals. I can say that. I’m eating better here than I ever did growing up, especially since my father died. Part of it I know is Prim’s cooking – she’s become better than I remember – but the other part is having the supplies to do it. Where Gale and I used to subsist on the basics of cooking – getting most of our food from the forest – here we have spices and flavours I’ve never even heard of.

Still though, I need the forest like I need air to breathe.

That’s why on days like these, the ones where I struggle just to get out of bed in the morning, I head towards my old home and onto the forest pathways behind it. Struggling under the fence, I break out and wander, bow in hand and bag over my shoulder.

It doesn’t take me long to take down a rabbit and two birds. Despite nearly filling my bag though, I linger amongst the trees, walking along the crunching leaves and listening to the calming sounds of nature.

It’s here where I feel most at home. I don’t feel the pressure to pretend like everything’s okay, nor do I feel so far away from Gale. This was the place we met, where we became friends, likely where we conceived this child. This is my sanctuary, that I know, and I wish I could just run away and get lost here forever.

When dusk seems to set in, I finally move back to my feet and head towards Haymitch’s house. I come upon the fence quicker than I expect and shimmy under it, my belly getting caught annoyingly on the wires as I try to push my body through.

I refuse to think about the time I have left before I’ll no longer fit under here.

All thoughts of forest escapes and serenity seem to disappear when I lift my eyes and take in the sight of Peeta standing further down the fence line. I’m too shocked to move for a moment, too nervous to speak.

We haven’t spoken since I told him. Since I slapped him.

In that moment I truly look at him. My eyes capture the sunken look to his cheeks, the way his clothes seem a little more baggy than normal. The tired look in his eyes.

I have to look away because the sight of Peeta Mellark hungry makes everything I thought I was sure of disappear in a blink.

Instead of greeting him, instead of staying for a friendly chat, I hurry off towards home and begin throwing together a make shift dinner. When Prim enters the kitchen and sees the frantic look in my eye she calmly takes the knife from my hand and methodically takes over preparing dinner.

We don’t talk about it.

Not even at dinner.

It’s before dawn when I slip from my room, slinking as quietly as I can down the hallway and into the kitchen. I pull quickly from the cooler the leftovers from last night, wrapping them in paper and tucking them into a bag. My hands shake while they make quick work of it, tucking the food safely under my arm as I move across town to Peeta’s bakery.

Lingering for a moment, I stare at the structure as it’s outlined in the early morning light. My eyes take in the dark windows, the looming chimney, and the porch that juts out from behind. I scan and see the trash cans where I’d been searching for food after my father had died.

Where Peeta had given me the bread.

Somewhere inside the bakery I hear movement. It’s subtle, but someone is awake. Without another thought, I dash towards the door and leave the bag of leftovers, skirting my way across town as the sun slowly rises.

I’m back in bed before Prim comes to wake me up, insisting that we need to run to pick up liquor before Haymitch gets the shakes again.

* * *

I don’t know why I’m here. I _hate_ dresses. But it’s the only thing I have that _fits_. Silently I curse my changing body and how awkward it makes me feel.

“How long do we have to stay again, kid?” Haymitch grumbles from beside me, sipping some punch concoction from a plastic cup.

At least I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to be here.

“Only for an hour,” Prim responds as she sets down the casserole she made. It’s the biggest dish on the table and the idea of it makes me anxious.

All around us, people are dressed in nice clothes, dancing and talking in groups around the room. You can still see it though, the suffering that the drought has caused. It’s in their faces, in the way their skin seems to hang a little bit and the exhaustion bleeds from their pores.

It makes me uncomfortable.

“Katniss, dance with me!” Prim shouts and breaks me out of my observations. She pulls me away from the wall and onto the dance floor where we get caught up in the movement of the music. Taking advantage of it, I let the moment carry me away and I release the tension in my shoulders, shaking them out.

I dance freely, letting Prim spin me until the smile on her lips disappears and she stops, turning towards a familiar voice shouting across the room. I stop moving, my feet planting firmly on the floor as I follow everyone’s gaze and see Peeta facing off against his fiancé, Delly Cartwright.

Instantly my back is up and I’m moments away of marching over there and shaming her for whatever she’s done to get a response like this from the gentle Peeta I know.

But Haymitch’s hand wraps around my wrist as I take my first step and I’m pulled up short by the words being yelled across the room.

“That was for the Hawthorne baby – Katniss and Gale's child. That was to _feed it, to clothe it_ , Delly – Not to buy you a fucking pair of _shoes_. Do you understand what you've done? Do you have any _idea_?” Peeta shouts and my stomach dips.

 _What_?

“What?” I gasp out loud and Prim whirls towards me and grabs my other hand. I feel the burn of some people’s gazes landing on me, feel their eyes roaming over my belly like hunters.

The next thing I know, Peeta is disappearing through the front entrance and I don’t know why, but I’m after him like a shot. I hear Prim’s shout from behind but I ignore it, desperate to find out what the hell he’s thinking.

From the entrance way, I watch as Peeta stomps into the shadows, disappearing out of sight into the tangle of buildings. I know from here that I’ll never catch up to him.

And I’m not sure if I should.

Peeta owes me no debt. He doesn’t need the stress of this baby. So why is he doing this?

Why am I glad that he is?  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise chapter! This one is in Katniss' POV because the lovely sunburst-street wanted into Katniss' head (side-note, Katniss is an enigma to me - there's a reason I stick to Peeta POV's). It also addresses Katnissinme's question of Haymitch's finances (though not really much detail, sorry!) Really though, Katniss' view will likely be a rarity here, but it just made sense to address some outstanding questions. Let me know what you think/any questions you may have.


	8. Chapter 8

February is brutal for every reason that is always hard to stomach. It’s cold, so bitterly so, that even the mines consider shutting down in order to gauge how best to keep their workers from freezing to death or facing another explosion during their extended shifts.

It’s only considered – no man wants to turn away money. The day they offer to shut it down until the temperature returns closer to the reasonable zero degree mark the men almost break out into a riot.

I wasn’t among them.

To be completely honest, ever since the explosion many men have seemed more weary of me than before. Perhaps I didn’t notice it before or Gale talked to them about it or something of the sort. Either way, lately I was like a pariah in the pit. Workplace conversations were few, and the idea of even socializing with me must have been beyond words to the men who rode the elevator with me.

Apart from Thom and Smits and a few other men, it was rare for me to even hold a conversation with someone during my twelve hour shifts.

It’s on one of these lonely and brutally cold days that I finally overhear what’s been picking at the back of my brain for months.

“It’s just not right, you know?” A man I’ve only seen once or twice in the pit rambles from behind me as I eat my lunch.

“Smits knows what he’s doing – wouldn’t give the guy a chance if he didn’t deserve it – you know that,” I hear his friend reply, his mouth working around the food he has. I’m jealous of it.

“Yeah but Mellark – he ain’t had to _struggle_ , if you get me? He just popped up one day. Had the smarts to see what was coming is all. Doesn’t make sense for him to get upped over you!” The first man interjects, truly catching my attention. I sit in silence, returning my small bit of old bread to my lap as I listen intently. I’ve no qualms anymore about eavesdropping, not down here.

“Don’t be jealous, Jacobs. He’s just trying to get along, just like us.”

“Come on man!” I hear him groan, my back going up with the displeasure in his tone. “Mellark don’t even have a family to support. He don’t deserve it. That goddamn Cartwright broad just needs another pair of _shoes_ or some stupid shit. You know he ain’t struggling, not really!”

The second man doesn’t reply and I can’t stomach to be here anymore.

When I step off the elevator I duck my head to avoid the stares of the workers around me. I hear Smits from behind, calling me back to work, but all I can do is throw a hand in the air as I walk out without my jacket into the freezing weather.

I watch my puffs of breath rise into the air before me for what seems like forever. All around me men are coming and going, their shoes leaving black prints in the dirty snow.

“Mellark, second shift is starting, either you’re on it or you’re not,” Smits yells from the gates, startling me out of my quiet. Turning around, I meet his eyes and he nods to me, acknowledging the mood I’m in. I go back inside without pause, knowing that I have to keep working. I have duties. Responsibilities. Even if they’re not really mine.

* * *

I haven’t heard from Delly in weeks. I’ve heard _about_ Delly – that she’s doing well, staying with a cousin or something - but not from her. Somehow, it doesn’t seem to really irk me that we’re not talking. I know that’s probably bad, that it’ll get us in trouble with the authorities should they ever attempt to check our status, but I can’t find it in me to bother with doing anything about it.

Instead I stay moved out of the bakery, only going home when the rations come in and I’m hired to bake up the new ingredients for the big wigs in town.

Every night I spend instead in Katniss’ old house. I come home often to notes left on the table, ones inviting me to dinner or already instructing me to eat a plate prepared and left in the fridge. Sometimes I come home to Katniss herself scrapping meat from her latest hunt or to Prim sitting at the kitchen table to study.

Though it’s nice to have company, I usually find these nights to be the most awkward at first, especially when I stumble in ready to pass out on their couch.

On about the third visit from Katniss I find that she’s removed all of the sheets off the couch. Returning to the kitchen from the living room, I stare at her as she stitches together an old sweater - I savour the moment of just watching her nimble fingers work the thread and needle.

“It doesn’t make sense for you to keep sleeping on the couch. At least take the spare room,” Katniss startles me with her words, bringing me out of my silent observation. Moving to take a seat at the table, she motions absently to the fridge. “There’s a bowl of stew in the fridge for you.”

“You have to stop doing that,” I reply, sinking down into the chair just before my legs give out from exhaustion. She doesn’t bother to respond. We sit in silence for a long while, me watching her stitch the sleeve back together with such precision that I have to admire her skills. Though the quiet isn’t awkward, not by a long shot, I long to hear her voice talk about anything.

“How’s Haymitch?” I must catch her off guard with the question, causing a snort to rip from her nose just before she pokes herself with the needle. She laughs some more, sucking her finger into her lips and finally looking up at me, her eyes bright.

“Really? Old man is drunker than a skunk most days. Don’t know why we bother to feed him if he’s just going toss it all up again at the end of the day.”

We spend the next hour talking about meaningless things, glossing over the town gossip and touching on ideas for the summer months. We don’t really talk about the baby, despite it being like the elephant in the room. When I begin to lay my head in my hands and yawn, I don’t miss her frown.

“You should go to bed,” she states quietly, pushing to her feet and offering me a hand. I take it carefully, nearly cradling it in mine as though it was a delicate object.

“Thank you,” I mutter when we reach the door to the spare room. I’m barely able to stand at this point, only being driven forth by her presence.

“Don’t thank me, Peeta,” she whispers in reply, her fingers ghosting over my cheek bone. I want to lean into her touch, to savour the buzz of her skin on mine. “Go to sleep.”

She leaves me at my door, vacating the house too quickly for me to even shout out a goodbye.

* * *

Katniss’ evening visits become almost a routine that we slip into without much thought. I come home from work, seven days a week, to find her already in the kitchen and working on a small project or two. Some days she’s able to feed me, some days she’s not. She says it’s because of the rationing and her scaled back hunting and apologizes profusely when there’s nothing to supply. It’s like she’s apologizing for the drought and the winter and the baby and everything she can’t really control.

She stops apologizing when I ask her if she was able to eat. She doesn’t lie, but she doesn’t answer either.

The thought makes me sick to my stomach.

“You have to eat, Katniss,” I shout one day when she turns to the sink instead of looking at me again. My words have startled her as I watch her jump and clench the counter with her fingers. There’s a winter storm raging outside and the howl of the wind is the only thing hiding the sound of my laboured breathing.

The meals have been even fewer these last couple weeks, especially as the vegetable supply in town has grown thin – even money wasn’t buying enough food right now. Each night I notice that my ribs have become a little more prominent, poking their way through my nightshirt and reminding me that this is a dangerous pace for my body to run at.

The whistle of the wind in the fireplace fills the house as I approach her quietly, stepping up behind her and placing my fingers over hers on the counter. Slowly, I begin to pry them loose, holding them instead in my hand while my blood thrums with the heat of her body being so close. I don’t think we’ve ever been this close before. It’s comforting somehow. 

“You have to eat – you’re eating for two. Your body can’t take the stress of hunger,” I remind her, desperation lingering in my voice. Though ninety-nine percent of this persuasion is for the baby, the last one percent is most definitely because I couldn’t bear to see her starve like she had just after her father passed. That time had been the hardest for me to watch; especially when my mother had nearly beat her for digging through the trash cans. All I’d been able to offer her that time was burnt bread – I’d never thought it was enough.

“There just isn’t the food right now,” She whispers in response, almost too low to catch.

“Tell me what to look for in the forest to scavenge. Or I could try to sneak out some bread on the next delivery, or I could talk to the men in the mines or-“

Reaching her hand to my face she covers my lips while staring me down with her grey eyes. The gesture itself stops me from my nearly unintelligible rambling.

“We eat when we can, Peeta. There’s nothing we can do. Can you please drop it?”

I know it’s true. I know it. But still.

I stare at her for a moment longer, my hands carefully coming up to grasp her palm as it rests against my lips. Silently and without warning, my lips find her knuckles and press a kiss to them. My eyes close as I try to capture this moment in my memory.

The silence of our moment is broken only by the rumble of my stomach in the hollow kitchen air. When I look up, I’m met not with a smile or a scowl, but with a frown and eyes filled with such deep sadness I nearly turn away. 

“Sit and watch the fire for a while?” It’s all I’ve got – all I can offer – to break the quiet of the kitchen. Katniss follows me to the living room without much argument, slipping down onto the couch as gracefully as she can manage with the growing size of her belly. I fall in beside her, not quite touching, as we both soak in the warm glow.

It’s nearly an hour later before I’m drifting off and she’s pulling herself to her feet. I find her in the kitchen, stuffing on her boots and trying not to curse too loudly at the effort. I nearly chuckle before I stop myself, reigning in the laughter and choosing instead to sink to my knees and help tie the strings. We listen as the house creaks in the wind and a draft catches my neck causing my hair to stand on end.

Suddenly, I don’t feel right about letting her leave tonight. It’s too dangerous – what if she got trapped out there in the storm? I’d never forgive myself.

The thoughts swirl around in my head so fast that I don’t even realize that I’m untying her boot laces before I’m slipping them off and she’s scowling at me overhead.

“What are you doing? You’re supposed to be helping me!” she snaps, kicking her foot towards me as though to insist I put the boot back on. Instead I grab her toes and meet her gaze, smiling slightly at her expression.

“You should stay – you could get lost in the storm, or fall on ice, or freeze to death or _something_ – don’t leave! Stay! It’s your house, I’ll go if you want, just – don’t go out there tonight, please,” I beg as the smile slips from her features.

“Prim will worry if I don’t come home.”

“She knows you’re here, right? She won’t worry,” I insist, getting to my feet and offering her a hand. “Come on Katniss – if you’re not comfortable, I’ll go, just – I worry, okay?”

“Oh don’t be foolish, Peeta,” she whispers harshly, grabbing my hands and pulling herself up. “I’ll stay and you don’t have to go.”

And just like that, we’re walking down the hallway and saying our goodnights in the space outside our bedroom doors.

* * *

Sleep comes easily to me that night – maybe because I know that without a doubt she’s safe just in the other room and not lost wandering around in some snow filled field trying to navigate her way back to Haymitch’s house.

The clock on the bedside table reads three AM when I’m forced from my bed at a run, the screeching sounds of Katniss’ screams echoing throughout the house. I’ve no time for privacy when I throw open the door to her room, hesitating only slightly when she thrashes wickedly on the bed, the sheets tying her up in unforgiving knots.

“Katniss, shh,” I try to soothe, my fingers ghosting over her forehead. Her hand swipes at my face, pushing me backwards as she sobs quietly, still deeply entrenched in her nightmare. “It’s just a dream, come back to me,” I whisper again, this time shifting so that I’m on the bed and pulling her to rest against my chest, desperately trying to calm her down.

I start first with a childhood story my father once told me, one about a girl who stopped the world with a song. When I told my father as a kid that it reminded me of Katniss and her voice, he’d laughed and told me to just out and tell her so. I hadn’t listened, obviously. I hadn’t listened to a lot of things my father had told me.

The sobs erupting from her chest soon turn to groans and gasps, the tears wetting my thinning pajama shirt as my hands run the length of her arm.

When finally at the end she shudders into another fitful sleep, I don’t dare leave her alone. Instead I lay down alongside her, keeping a distance but maintaining a watchful eye.

I’ve only three hours left before I need to get up anyways. Going back to sleep now would be a waste.

At six AM, I leave a note on her pillow letting her know I’ve gone to work and slip from the house, quietly locking it and pushing out into the three feet of snow that’s fallen throughout night. I’m not nearly rested, nor am I fuelled, but today will pass and tomorrow will be kinder.

At least that’s what I have to keep believing.

* * *

“Mellark, Mr. Abernathy stumbled by today – said you’re to head over to his place after your shift.”

Looking to the foreman, I quirk an eyebrow before stuffing my gear in the equipment room.

It’s been a few days since the winter storm and when I last saw Katniss. I don’t even know where to start with what this could be about so I don’t even bother. Why waste the energy? I don’t hurry. Instead I wander, kicking the puffs of dirty snow up off the ground as I move forward.

Finding my way to the house is only slightly harder than usual as my mind lags with the lack of food and the aching tiredness that creeps through my body. I stumble a few times in the snow, hauling myself up using a bench or a light post that’s usually nearby. When I finally find my feet on solid ground, I nearly collapse with the effort, only holding it together with my boot straps to keep from looking a fool.

I don’t even have to knock before the door is swung open for me, Prim standing in the entryway and grinning like a madman.

“Ah you came!” she squeals, pulling me into the house and rushing into the kitchen as I’m left to remove my boots and jacket. After a moment of gripping the wall for balance, I head forwards and into the kitchen, swaying into an empty chair and looking up at Prim as she stirs a pot of watered down soup.

“What’s going on Prim?” The question couldn’t be contained any longer.

“Just cooking some dinner – want an appetizer?” My stomach growls my answer for me, startling us both into nervous fits of laughter.

“Sure, kid,” I grin, getting up on weak legs to walk to the stove. Out of the corner of her eye she must see me stumble because in another instant, she’s pushing me into the chair and placing her fingers along my wrist and watching the clock.

“When did you last eat, Peeta?” She asks hesitantly, taking in my gaunt cheeks and pale skin. I shrug, looking over her shoulder so as to avoid her piercing gaze. “Just what I thought,” she mumbles and turns, digging through the cupboard for a bottle of something. “Here, take one of these,” thrusting her hand under my chin I see a pill that looks as if it could choke a horse.

“What is it?” My fingers rotate it around, turning it in the light.

“It’s just a multivitamin. It won’t do much, but it might help with the dizziness,” she replies and turns back to hand me some beyond stale bread and a glass of water. Raising it to my lips, I nearly pop it in before she continues talking. “Katniss takes them for the baby. They help keep her nutrition balanced when it’s... hard to.”

I set the pill down and place the water next to it.

“I’m alright then – it’s got a better use for her than it does for me,” I mutter, watching the young woman’s back as she putters around the kitchen.

“Just take the damn pill, Peeta. She needs you around alive, not dead,” Prim responds without missing a beat. When still she doesn’t hear me move with her catlike senses, she turns, hands on her hips, and stares me down. “Please?”

Reluctantly, I swallow it back, frowning at the realization. Prim turns around and returns to her soup as I pick at the bread in front of me. 

Our tense silence is soon interrupted by a _very_ drunk Haymitch who stumbles into the kitchen with a foul smell that turns the water in my gut.

“Ah! You’re here!” He boasts, throwing his hands into the air jovially before pulling out a chair and practically stumbling into it. My tight smile of greeting only further encourages his mocking laughter. “Don’t worry kid – girl’s out and about rounding up some liquor. Can’t overhear us if she’s not in the building. Now, let’s talk about you and the Cartwright girl.”

I’m on my feet and heading for the door before he finishes his sentence. I can’t run nearly fast enough to get away from this trap, especially knowing I’ve no real answers for him or Prim or anyone who has some questions to ask.

“Peeta, wait!” Prim shouts from the kitchen. I don’t stop as I grab my shoes and stumble onto the snowy porch, taking a moment to pull them on hastily and head off into the snow. “You’re going to freeze to death without your coat!”

I stop, standing in the cold air as the brisk wind chills down my spine. Of course I’d left my coat. Of course I’d been that goddamn stupid.

“Peeta, just come back in for a minute,” Prim pleads from the porch. Wrapping my arms tightly around my chest I frown as I look back up to the old man and the young woman who watch me carefully.

“I don’t know if I have any answers for you,” I shout through the air, my teeth about ready to chatter with the cold.

“We just want to talk, kid,” Haymitch adds after a moment, all signs of intoxication gone from his mannerisms. Reluctantly, I return to the house and remove my boots, all the while trying to cease my exhausting shivers but failing miserably. Prim takes the lead and seats me back at the table with a blanket over my shoulders before returning to dinner preparations. Haymitch stands in the doorway, lingering over me like a dark shadow.

“I didn’t – I haven’t done anything. I’ve been respectful. I’d never do anything to hurt Katniss or shame her or –“ The words begin to fall from my mouth in a jumbled mess as I try to explain my guilt for growing closer to my best friend’s widow. I’m still shaking as the two people closest to Katniss watch me with careful eyes as I blather on about my failures. “I just – I didn’t want her to face it alone. She shouldn’t have to. Katniss deserves so much better.”

“But Peeta, she has us,” Prim replies quietly, motioning to herself and Haymitch.

“For now – but you’ll go back to your life and he’ll go back to being an intolerable drunk, and she won’t have anyone to help her with that kid. I can’t watch her struggle again!” I nearly shout, rubbing the heels of my hands into my eye sockets. The emotions lacing through my blood right now are wearing me thin, pulling on every resource I have left in my body.

“And what happens when you go back to Delly? Or when you have your own mouths to feed?” The old man interjects, scraping out a chair against the floor and leaning towards me. I can smell the stink of him in front of me and I want to gag.

“Delly and I – we’re not... It’s not going to happen. I don’t feel things for her like I should – not really. We just... It’s our families... They negotiated our arrangement for us. I only got the bakery because my mother worked out something with the Cartwrights before they left the District and Delly was part of it. I used to think it was okay, that I could be happy with her but I don’t love her. I don’t think I ever could. She’s not it for me. We’ve only tried to pretend to be together now because of the increased rations for couples…” It feels utterly wrong to admit it out loud to these people – these well fed and kind people who surely judge me for staying with a woman who I can’t stand all in the name of getting a meal. “I’d never leave Katniss, she’s… too important.” I add. My hands shake in my lap as the quiet overwhelms us.

“She hasn’t even had a Wind Ceremony yet,” Prim whispers quietly, setting down bowls of soup for us all. It’s amazing how intuitive she is, grasping at my unmentioned words with such certainty that she’ll dare speak it out loud.

“I know,” My words are hollow as they slip from my lips. I let the guilt creep in a little more, pooling in my gut as I play with my spoon. I’d never be worthy of Katniss – not after everything that’s happened.

Later, when Katniss arrives home with litres of liquor in tote, we all watch from our places at the table as her face lights up with the sight of me. We all put on a show, as if we weren’t just discussing my ill-timed affections.

She doesn’t catch on.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so, so much for your reviews! Whether it's a simple question, a detailed remark, or just a hello, they are hugely appreciated. Hell, I'm happy to just see people reading this!


	9. Chapter 9

Winter ends with a wallop. The month of March is nearly suffocating with the amount of snow that falls, often sending the District into a near daily tailspin of panic as food peters out and people get locked in their houses for days at a time.

Bodies on the streets are becoming more common than ever.

At least more common than what Katniss knows. And she’d know better than I – she’s Seam, she understands starvation. She understands it better than anyone.

I still can’t get over the sickly smell of the corpses as the snow seems to fade and the bodies are discovered underneath. They reek as they thaw. So much so that I’ve had to stop taking the short cut through the forest home for fear of discovering another one on my path.

I’m just thankful that I don’t know them, as awful as that sounds. I’m _glad_ that I don’t know their faces so that they haunt me in my dreams. It’s a small relief that gets me through the day and the hours spent looking at the empty cupboards.

* * *

It’s late on a Sunday morning when I see Delly again at the train station. The rations delivery had been delayed for nearly a week and the train was only now arriving with the District’s supplies.

It’s the first time in a long time that she looks like the effects of the drought are finally hitting her – and they’re hitting hard. Her cheeks are hollowed out and her hair is thinning ever so slightly. Though we haven’t spoken in weeks, my heart wrenches in my chest as I remember that Delly had once been my best friend – hell, she’d been my fiancée, for God’s sake, and still we’d parted on such foul ways.

Standing on the far edge of the platform, I watch as she pulls a small child I’ve never seen behind her and into the waiting crowd of weary people.

I’d think it odd, to see her with a child, if I didn’t understand that nowadays it’s safer to be seen with children. People of the District are less likely to hassle you if you are seen to be supporting more mouths than just yourself. I almost wouldn’t put the tactic past Delly, to be completely honest with myself.

Standing on the edge of the crowd, I want to tell her to wait, to stand back from the moving hoard because it’s dangerous, but I couldn’t muster the energy even if I tried. Instead I wait, leaning against the wall of the station as the crowd surges forward towards the opening train doors.

The screech on metal is met with a collective groan from the crowd as the people in the back push forward, knocking the front lines onto the tracks and into the staff ready to unload. A whistle is blown somewhere overhead and the crowd shuffles forward again. My ears perk up when I hear a short scream let out and I stand up straight, unsure of what’s happening in that mass. When the group moves again, it’s almost with violent intention that forces people to the ground and more shouts of pain and panic lift into the damp air.

Somewhere, a gun is shot and a riot is born.

Like a madman, I’m after Delly in the crowd, shouting and calling for her. Each blonde head I see in the mass sets me moving forward, forcing people to the side as I push through. The first two women I reach are not Delly and I’m forced to continue further forward, receiving elbows to the jaw as the violence grows.

People begin to shout around me as boxes are passed overhead. I’m nearly toppled to the ground when, without warning, bodies shift to the left and make me trip up on my feet. Like wildfire, panic and fear of not getting our rations surges through the people and they begin to storm the train car, desperately clinging to any semblance of hope that hides in the dark metal box.

“Delly!” I shout again, unable to squeeze closer as the people begin rioting around me. My eyes whip from side to side as a foot crushes my toes and a fist connects with my cheek. I’m stunned but still moving as I pull myself free, huffing and trying to stem the flow of blood from my face. I shout for her again, trying to focus my eyes on the crowd as I step back towards the station wall for safety. I want to find her, but I can’t manage in that horde.

It’s twenty minutes before the fear and panic of the group settles down. As the people begin to disperse, I watch for her flash of blonde hair and the little boy she’d been travelling with. Out of the corner of my eye I see the boy with his red hat and Delly’s navy coat, crouching along the side of the platform. I push myself off the wall and stumble over to them as quick as I can, clutching up a chunk of dirty snow and pressing it to my face to stem the bruising that will surely form.

“Are you alright?” I gasp, grabbing her gently by the shoulder as I look down at her tear-streaked face. The returning look that she gives me speaks volumes – hatred, confusion, a bit of sadness. A part of me hopes she’s able to keep it together so the Peacekeepers don’t witness our growing unfamiliarity with each other. The other part of me, the foolish one, wants to run in the other direction for fear of actually having to have a conversation with her. I don’t really know why I’m even here.

“What do you want, Peeta?” Her voice is stern as she steps away from the child and towards me.

“I was trying to help, is all? Who’s this little one here?” I divert, crouching down in front of the kid as the cold snow drips down my arm. The boy recoils slightly, pulling his hands into his coat jacket and looking up at Delly over my shoulder. I’d always been so good with kids and now I could barely get a word out of one.

“Get away from him.” Delly scolds, stepping in between us and blocking the child from view. I step back instantly, fearful of overstepping the boundaries that have clearly been laid since our last conversation. Time has _not_ made the heart grow fonder and I’m starting to think that there’s an irreparable tear in our friendship.

We stand in silence, staring at each other for a moment, as the cool breeze picks up the garbage left by the horde of people. The tension doesn’t really subside when Delly looks over my shoulder and steps away.

“Come Colton, we’ve got to get your mother’s kit,” she instructs, grabbing the little boy’s hand and leading him back towards the nearly vacated platform. I watch them go, confusion and something else that I can’t identify curling up in my gut.

Somewhere, deep inside, I want to talk to her. To find out how she is and what’s happening with her and why she looks so _angry_ now and if it’s because of what I’ve done and what’s happened between us. I know now that I could never _be_ with Delly again, but there’s a sadness that’s replaced the anger I felt for her when we parted ways. I almost miss our friendship, if I dare admit it, and watching her disappear back into town nearly breaks my heart.

I don’t know how long I stand watching the crowd disperse before I head forward to claim my own rations kit and baking supplies. Every time I arrive they provide me with a cart now, loaded up with enough grain and ingredients to supply the Peacekeepers with baked product to store, and an armed Peacekeeper to escort me back to the bakery.

The Peacekeeper hadn’t been necessary until I’d been robbed at the beginning of March. Since then, I hadn’t questioned the motives.

We walk back to the bakery in silence today, our feet crunching along the ground as the people watch us with weary eyes. I keep my gaze lowered, unable to look anyone who’s truly starving in the eye for fear of seeing the judgement I pass onto myself. According to the men in the mines, my second job is a sore spot for many in the District. They don’t agree with the baked product being reserved for ranking officials over the most desperate families and honestly, neither do I.

I try to tell myself it’s a necessary evil. That I do it because it would be done even if it wasn’t me. That the money will go to keeping another child alive very soon.

It doesn’t always work. Especially not on days where I see kids lining the sidewalk and staring at me as I walk past.

Reaching the back door to the shop I pull out my keys and hand them to my escort, letting him head on for his building sweep as I start to unload the heavy flour bags. There’d been a time when this hadn’t winded me. Now it saps me of every bit of strength I have.

“All clear, Mr. Mellark.” The Peacekeeper grunts, dropping my keys at the door and disappearing back around the bakery. He doesn’t offer to stay and help, just like every delivery day.

It’s a few hours later, when the ovens are roaring and the bread is rising, that the quiet knock comes against the back door. I open it to a gust of wind and black hair whipping me in the face as Katniss stumbles in from outside, my arms catching her instinctively.

“Hello there,” I mumble, steadying her on her feet and letting my hands linger for quite possibly a moment too long.  "Are you alright?" When she looks up, I see that her cheeks are red from the cold and that her eyes are a little puffy from what looks to be tears. It catches me off guard, just as it had with Delly, the way my heart stumbles on the sight. “Not so alright,” I whisper, lifting a hand to brush against her cheek.

She’s the first to step away, turning her back towards me and looking out the window into the yard.

“I forgot there was a delivery today when I went by the house. I thought maybe you’d moved back here,” she says absently. I’m lost at what to say to this, unsure of what she’s trying to convey with her cryptic words. I lean on the crutch of humour, hoping it will clear the air of this foreboding feeling that’s creeping along inside of me.

“Thought I’d left for some nicer _buns_?” I kid, playing with the terrible pun. I’d kick myself if I could. My cheeks heat up as she meets my gaze with a small smile playing at her lips. I love those lips.

It starts out as a snort that quickly turns into a ridiculously gut wrenching gasp of laughter that echoes throughout the kitchen. Katniss is the first to go, disappearing into a fit of struggling gasps intermixed with laughter as she grips onto a chair for extra support. I join her soon after, the tension in my shoulders dissipating as we laugh together fanatically.

Even through my laughter-induced tears, I see the flinch in her stance and the way her smile disappears for only a second. I’m by her side in an instant, all laughs turning serious as I take her arm and guide her into a chair.

“Are you alright?” I ask, mirroring my words from earlier in the day. I crouch until I’m at her level, disregarding the fact that whatever is in the oven may burn while I’m distracted.

“I think – I don’t know, it just hurt for a second. Kicked me somewhere new, I guess. Just surprised me really, is all, I think,” she answers, her eyes avoiding mine. I stare at her face, focusing on the way her brow knits together in confusion rather than pain. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her hand splay across her belly. 

“Are you sure?” I don’t want to doubt her, but the instantaneous change in her behaviour has caught my eye and filled my mind with troubled thoughts.

“Yes.” She pauses, looking at me and reaching for my hand to place it over her own. It’s not the first time I’ve felt it kick – she’d nearly pulled me across the table when she’d first recognized it without the help of Prim to calm her terror of the unknown. But every time, without a doubt, it made my blood buzz with excitement. “ _Yes_.” She whispers, more certain this time, as her hands hold tight to mine.

I stay there like that until I smell the faint hint of burning bread, jumping up quickly and rushing to the stove to grab at the loaves.

 _I can’t burn them. Don’t waste them. Dammit_.

My brain races as I pull the blackened bread from the oven and place them on the counter. They’re only a little burnt, but if I had the option I wouldn’t sell them. I don’t know if they’ll take them like this and the thought makes my gut sink.

“Shit _,_ ” I groan, shifting into routine and placing another set of loaves in the oven to bake. I stare at the bread, part of me drooling while the other considers lobbing them at the window in frustration. When I look up, Katniss is watching me with such intensity that her gaze nearly burns into my skin.

“I’m sorry I distracted you,” she apologizes, getting slowly to her feet. Sighing, I step towards her and gently press her back into the chair.

“No, don’t apologize. I should have been paying better attention. They’ll probably take them anyways.” I assure, though I barely believe myself.

“Maybe if they don’t want them you could keep them for yourself.”

It’s almost traitorous, what she’s suggesting. I stare at her long and hard, trying to see the wheels turning in her brain. I don’t get far.

“We can’t,” The words slip and I have to look away, hiding from the guilt and the shame and the desperation that I feel. I want to help her, but my rations kit only held a few days’ supply of food at best and they’ll kill us for stealing from the Capitol.

“I didn’t say _we_ ,” she insists.

“I know – I did.”  And just like that, I’m gripping her hand tightly in mine and staring at our knuckles grasped together. “It’s a ‘ _we’_ for me, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

Once the words are out, I let them hang in the air for a moment before I stand, returning to the burnt loaves and wrapping them up. I putter around the space, every so often stealing a glance towards Katniss who has turned her chair towards the windows to watch the outside world. I’m not sure when it happened – when we became so comfortable with each other that the silence would be alright between us – but I’m glad that it has.

Looking back at the past couple of weeks, we’ve spent more time together than we have apart, with the exception of my time in the mines. It’s seemed almost easy, the way we’ve fallen into a pattern where we rely on each other to provide something the other one needs. Sometimes I need food, and she brings it. Sometimes she needs someone to vent to about Haymitch’s drunken fits, and I’m there. We work in tandem to keep each other together.

And it works. Usually.

Sometimes, on days like today where I know just by looking in her eyes that something is wrong, I feel it in my bones that soon the moment will break. That everything will change irrevocably. And I know that when that happens, not if, I’ll be lost. I think on these days it’s thoughts of Gale that fill her mind and render her lost and I know I’m helpless when it comes to those thoughts.

I can’t think about it. It physically _hurts_ , to think about it.

“Want to deliver these with me?” I ask instead, pulling the last loaves from the oven and wrapping them up in a white cloth.

“Sure. Come for dinner after?” I nod at her question, cleaning up before grabbing my pack with my rations; the boxes loaded up with fresh loaves of bread; and locking the door on the way out. I won’t be back here for at least a week and that’s only if the train arrives on time.

We head first to the Head Peacekeeper’s residence, located just on the edge of the market. The man, Cray, prefers his bread to still be hot for dinner time. I try to always make sure that it is, if only to keep myself on his good side. I’ve heard stories of his younger days – whippings and the like – and I don’t want to be a target for him. From there, we head on down the rank, my route memorized and almost without thought.

When we finally round on the last house near the Seam, the man being a new addition this week to the squad according to my delivery sheets, I knock on the door holding the burnt loaves tightly in my grip. Behind me, Katniss stands holding the box and looking out towards the now-empty houses.

The stern man that answers the door almost makes me step back, his gaze is so intense. I feel the cold shiver run down my spine and I know that it’s not because of the cold air outside.

“Officer Thread?” I ask hesitantly, looking up from my delivery sheet after confirming his name.

“What do you want?” He barks, his voice gruff. Oh God I want to bolt.

“Bread delivery, comes with every rations train. Fresh out of the ovens this afternoon.” I try not to let my voice shake as I hand over the burnt bread. The man squints his eyes, his hands squeezing the loaf as he looks over my shoulder and leers at Katniss. Reactively, I shift to the left to try to block his gaze.

“Seems burnt, boy,” He grunts as his eyes slide up toward mine. I watch as he pulls loose the loaf and takes in the sight of the char. _Shit_.

“About that – I’m sorry, I was trying to get everything done at once and it was in for a moment too long. It won’t-“ I’m cut off by him throwing the bread onto the ground outside. I’m sure my jaw is on the floor.

“Don’t eat the burnt bread – seems you were too busy making _that_ ,” he motions towards Katniss and then scowls at me again, “To be bothered. Feed it to the pigs.” With a flick of his hand, he’s turning back towards the inside of his house and reaching for the door to slam it in my face.

“Hey!” Katniss’ shout rips past me and Thread freezes. From this proximity I can see his shoulders tense as he turns back towards us, his teeth barred in a wicked smile.

“Yes, princess?” He’s leering again. I look towards Katniss who’s now holding the burnt bread as though it’s a baby.

“People are starving to death in this District. We don’t waste food here, _especially_ just because it’s burnt,” she shouts. Thread’s smile grows and within an instant he’s down off the porch and towering over her, his hands on her shoulders. Reacting, I follow and push him back, away from her and forcing myself between them.

“Now, isn’t this a treat,” his dark smile grows and I nearly shudder.

“It won’t happen again,” I say forcefully, offering my hands as a gesture of peace. The man merely licks his lips in warning, all the while staring at Katniss who stands behind me.

“It better not. Or you’ll have to offer me something better.”

I take Katniss by the hand and lead her away, wanting to run but all too aware of the leering gaze following us as we head up the street. Within moments, I’ve got us through the Square and am heading towards Haymitch’s house, desperate to get her as far as possible from him.

We’re nearly on the doorstep when Katniss digs in her heels, forcing me to stop and turn to look at her. Her eyes are teary and she still carries the burnt bread as her hand comes up to brush at her cheek. I don’t hesitate to pull her close into my arms, my body pressing against her side as my fingers fall across her stomach.

“It’ll be alright,” I whisper urgently, hoping to make it so. Against me I feel her body shake as the shock of the confrontation settles into her. I do it before I think. My lips find her temple and press a kiss as my free hand cradles the back of her head against me. Inside my chest my heart is beating wildly, the adrenaline and fear for her pulsing through me. If anything ever happened...

“ _Peeta_.” It’s all she needs to groan before I’m leading her inside and helping her down to the couch. Prim is there in an instant, terror lining her face as she attends to Katniss’ tears.

Stepping back, I lean my head against the wall and take a shuddering breath.

“What happened?” Haymitch’s gruff voice startles me and I turn, looking just over his shoulder at the other wall.

“New Peacekeeper - Spooked her after I burnt his bread.”

He nods, slipping by me and into the room to see if there’s anything he can do. I watch, amazed, as the two people fret over a crying Katniss. It’s a scene so rare in all the time I’ve known her that it crawls inside and leaves a lasting sense of dread.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning! Thought I'd leave this here for a little light afternoon reading. Also, if you're on Tumblr, apparently I am too at lollercakesff.tumblr.com - I don't make any promises though.


	10. Chapter 10

I’ve never been happier for April to roll around. With every passing day, the temperature seems to rise higher and the hopes for a successful harvest this year grow. Some people in the District have taken to freezing melted snow in barrels to be used for the spring months when they plant crops. It’s absolutely brilliant.

We all pray that this year brings the rain that the heavy snowfall throughout the winter promised.

It’s late in the month, almost May, when I catch her staring one afternoon. We're in the forest just behind her house, the house I'm pretty much living in - if you can call my life 'living' - on a rare day where the sun is out and I'm above ground. I notice, as I watch, that she looks beautiful in the spring sun.

She catches me off guard with her silver gaze, unrelenting, even as my eyes meet hers.

"What?" I ask abruptly. It seems to break her from her haze and she lets her lips curl up at the sides.

"Nothing." She looks away again and I can’t help the way my body lurches forward and captures her lips in mine. It’s quick and chaste and like so many moments I’d imagined back in high school. Pulling back, I hesitate before looking up at her, nervous that that was the wrong thing to do. But I’m not wrong.

Catching her eye, she smiles broader and rolls to her knees in an effort to get back to her feet. We don’t say a word – careful not to break the easy quiet between us, especially now. Nor do we acknowledge it, ignoring how the air crackles a little bit more between us as we move together slowly.

Walking back towards the house, I'm at her side in an instant, helping her move with my hand slightly caressing her stomach in the process.  She's ‘nearly ready to burst’ she says, every day we meet. And she looks it, but I never tell her so.

We do this a lot more now, this time together. It seems every hour that I'm not in the mines or at the bakery I'm with her. I don't mind it, not one bit. In fact, it seems that the only thing keeping me going is the notion that I need to make sure she's okay and that this baby is okay. With every passing day I cringe a little more at the way her cheeks look sallow and her wrists narrow.

I'm not doing much better myself, if I'm honest. They made me leave the mines the other day because I fell over after the strike of my pick. I didn't tell anyone above ground and thankfully Thom still paid me for the day.

There's no food. Plain and simple. There's nothing to buy, nothing growing yet in the recently thawed ground, nothing to harvest or store. Our District is dying and we've come to rely solely on the Capitol's rations now. I still save the money for Katniss though for all the things she'll need down the road.

This baby will grow up without want. I won't even take any other option now.

* * *

The walk back from the edge of the trees is slow going. I keep my hand on her back every moment, concerned that her nimble steps will falter at any point. There's also a small part of me that likes the warmth that comes with the contact of her body near mine.

"Will you come for dinner tonight?" She asks when we've reached her house. Her hands fiddle with the latch and she sighs heavily, frustrated that her body is refusing to comply with what she needs done. Sensing her distress, I flip the simple latch for her and pull open the door. I don't look back but I know the skin is pinched between her eyebrows. "I could have done it!" She grunts and steps through the door ahead of me.

I beeline my way into the kitchen, pulling down the mint water I have stored and an edge of cheese Prim had given me earlier in the week. Placing them quickly on the table, I pull out the chair and look at her expectantly.

"I'm not going to eat your food, Peeta," It's a huff and I'd think she was serious if her stomach didn't gurgle at the sight of it.

"It's not mine. I made it for your tagalong. Now sit and feast." I urge. She sits reluctantly and sips on the tea quietly, not meeting my eyes as I move to the other side of the table and join her. After a while, she nibbles on the edge of the cheese and looks at me questioningly. 

"What?" I prompt.

"You didn't answer me before - are you coming to Haymitch's later for dinner? It's a stupid question, I guess. Of course you are..." She rambles and returns her focus to the cheese as I shift in my seat uncomfortably.

"Um. No. I can't. Not tonight." I answer meekly and get up from the table.

I've two reasons for not wanting to have this conversation. First, I've seen Haymitch's rations cupboards. His stores are being depleted rapidly and I don't want to be a contributing factor to their disappearance. Secondly, I've got to meet Delly this evening. Apparently people have been asking about us and they’re no longer buying our story of living apart to preserve chastity. Now she's worried that word will get back to the Peacekeepers that we're not together and so our rations will be cut. I don’t want to mess with the Peacekeepers, especially not with Thread watching me now.

I don't want to have this conversation. I don't want to explain to Katniss why I'm meeting Delly.

We’ve never really discussed the fallout of my situation, though it’s not for lack of trying on my part. Often Katniss seems to dismiss it quickly, or request that she doesn’t want to talk about it. I don’t push – surely understanding that if we talk about my failed engagement we might venture towards Gale, or, even worse, where _we_ might stand. The whole mess, for right now, seems better left unspoken. When the time comes though, the conversation I’d wager will be interesting.

Looking at me, Katniss can tell something's up. She can see it in my eyes and in the way I avoid looking at her when I turn instead to the sink.

"What? Why not?" Her voice is a little lower than shrill as she asks.

"I've got things I need to do before work tomorrow." I reply and make myself busy with wiping down the already spotless counter.

"No you don't. Don't lie to me Peeta."

"I'm not lying. I have something I need to do. I'm sorry, I'll make up for it another time this week." I try to appease but her scowl tells me it's not working.

"Ugh. Don't tell me this is where you start to avoid me. Like it's some sixth fucking sense you have or something." She snarls and gets up from the table, her hands moving to press on her back near her kidneys.

“What?” I stand stunned, leaning against the counter as she groans softly. I don't know how to reply to that - haven't I shown her that there's no way I'm going anywhere? What does she even mean by a _sixth sense_?I don’t get a chance to ask though when her face scrunches up almost imperceptibly and I frown, stepping forward sensing something more than back pain is going on here.

"Katniss, hey, are you alright?" I ask quietly and take a step forward. Her hand swings out towards me, halting me mid-stride.

"Don't. I'm fine. I've got to get back or Prim will worry."

"Katniss, you know she won't - what's wrong?" I question again, growing concern lingering in my voice. Already at the door, she swings the latch and steps out onto the porch as I follow behind her.

"At least let me walk you home," I mutter and follow after her as she moves down the walkway.

"I'm fine - go deal with your errands. I can get home on my own!" Her shout brings me up short and she stomps off and through the yard.

In all honesty, I'm not sure what just happened. I'd just said no to dinner - was that that cataclysmic? Once she’s gone from sight, I wander back into the house with no other choice than to get ready for my meeting with Delly.

Hormones are normal. Mood swings are normal. At least that’s what I have to keep repeating in my head.

* * *

It was public. That was important. That, I'd say, was integral.

Delly and I walked into the square together, hand in hand, for everyone in town to see. She smiled brightly at everyone as I lead us over to a bench. We were doing this for appearances. Had to remember that.

"So, how've you been?" Delly asks, swinging our hands in the air.

"Surviving. How about you? Getting everything you need to get by?" She nods and I can see in the hollows of her cheeks that she's not. Nobody is. “How’s Colton?” I prompt, hoping to answer the question that’s been tugging at me since I saw them at the train station. Delly smirks sadly.

“He’s fine. You remember Gemma, right?” I nod, my brow furrowing at the memory of the girl from our class who’d always been one to pick on Delly back in grade school. “I’m staying with them for now.” Delly adds. My mouth nearly drops open at the surprise of it. I can’t remember them ever being friends.

“Why with _Gemma_?” I hiss, unsure of how I feel about her being belittled every day because I’ve kicked her out. Delly simply shrugs.

“She’s nice to me. I think...” She pauses and frowns, thinking better of whatever she was going to say. "I hear you're spending a lot of time with Katniss Hawthorne now - is that true?" She changes the subject quickly and I know by now it's a waste of time to bother to lie.

"Yes. I'm trying to help her out." It's vague, but enough of an answer I'd say. Delly begs to differ.

"Help her out?" She quips with a frown, implying something far more scandalous.

"No - no, it's not-" I try but Delly laughs loudly, as though I've just said something hilarious. I shift in my seat on the bench and meet her eyes.

"It's always been her, Peeta. I'm not stupid." She replies and while her voice is perky, the words and the way her fingers wrap around my wrist are anything but kind.

I don't say anything for a long time, instead choosing to let Delly carry a meaningless conversation that I wouldn't be able to contribute to if I tried. I try to pay attention, but my gaze catches on Peacekeeper Thread who watches from across the square, a sly smile on his lips that makes my blood run cold. We continue the facade until dusk arrives and then we wander out of the square and head our separate ways.

It takes most of the night to shake the unsettling feeling that comes from my meeting with Delly. The whole thing, the lies of it all, leaves my stomach in knots and I get the urge to find Katniss and just talk to her for a while.

Getting into a new set of clothes that hang off my frame, I wander to Haymitch's part of town. It's on his doorstep that I find him, staring off with a bottle in his hand.

"Hey Haymitch," I call out as I approach. He doesn't move as I get closer and it's not until I'm at the base of the steps that he replies.

"Doubt you're wanted here tonight, boy."

I frown, unsure of what's going on.

"What? Why?"

"Best get on home now, before we gotta deposit you there." Haymitch grumbles and heads back inside slamming the door. I hear the lock click and for a moment I'm completely and utterly lost. I stand there for who knows how long, staring at the windows and watching the flickering of lights. Just as I'm about to head home, a voice calls out and I find myself turning to see Prim on the porch, arms crossed over her chest and a frown on her lips.

"Was missing dinner really that big of a deal?" I ask.

"You said you were done with Delly," Prim states, her words dripping with disappointment. I shake my head, stepping forward.

"That's not what-" She cuts me off.

"Save it Peeta, I'm not the one you have to convince. Katniss heard it from some woman in town. I've never seen her like this. I don't get it Peeta - what are you thinking? Why now?"

I'm crestfallen. I should have told her. I should have trusted her to understand the truth. "I didn't think it would matter. It's not real. You know that. I didn't think. Can I see her? Explain?"

"I don't think tonight is a good idea." She responds briskly and turns back towards the door, dismissing me.

"Wait! Prim! I've got doubles for the next few days - I need to see her though, I need to fix this. Can you help me? Please?" She doesn't turn around.

"Just this once." And then she's gone, behind the door that houses everyone left that I love.

* * *

Work grinds my bones. They feel like dust in my joints when I crash into bed two days after fucking everything with Katniss up. I still haven't had the chance to explain, to say what's going on. I haven't been by, too exhausted after getting home from work to do anything but curl up in my sheets.

When I wake the next morning, it's not to my alarm or the sun, but to the sound of furniture sagging under weight. Opening my eyes, it's Katniss I see staring back at me with a scowl.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, the first and only words I really know that need to be said. She doesn't move, instead choosing to clutch her hands tighter over her belly.

"I thought there was something with us," She states quietly.

"Katniss, there is. You don't understand-"

"No! You don't get to tell me what I do and do not understand. How do you think it makes me feel, to hear you're still with Delly? That you’re playing around on her? That you think you're getting away with it? Making me some knocked up whore?" Her pitch rises with each syllable and soon she's standing, her hands again on her back and her face tight. "Why did you do it? Why me?" She pauses only to hiss in another breath. "Fuck," She gasps and she bends slightly.

I throw myself out of bed too quickly and nearly pass out from dizziness as I stumble over to where she's leaning on her knees.

"Are you okay? Katniss?"

"Get off me!" Her hands push me back and I falter. The hint of pain in her voice sends panic coursing through me.

"You're not okay! Let me-" I try to steer her towards the bed but she swats my hands away again. "Stop! I'm not sleeping with Delly! There's nothing between us. We haven’t even lived together since before the winter gathering. Hell, we hadn’t even talked for months! I love you, Katniss, I always have. Now let me help you, _please_ ," My words seem to stun her enough momentarily for me to manoeuvre her onto the bed until she's curled up away from me. Kneading her back, I never let my hands drift as she groans into the pillow. When the whites of her knuckles return to normal, I let my fingers smooth up her back to her neck.

"I should go get Prim; that looked like a contraction." I state. She tenses next to me.

"No.” She replies brusquely. Despite not being trained, or really ever having dealt with a pregnant woman before, I’m not likely to deny that I don’t know much. But from what I _do_ know, from what I can feel in my _gut_ , _that_ was a contraction and Katniss’ denial is just instinct. Leaning back slightly, I shift to the edge of the bed.

“Katniss, I really think-“ I start, only to be cut off by her low shout.

“No! I'm not ready yet." If possible, she curls up even tighter to herself, her hands wrapping around her belly. I give her a moment, my hands simply running smooth patterns around her back while I try to process her fear. It's another couple of minutes before her muscles clench and she's clawing at the sheets again.

"Prim - we need to get Prim." I repeat after the pain passes and I can see wet stains on the sheets where her tears are leaking from her tight eyes. "Katniss, I need to go. You need her. I'll be back soon." Against all instincts, I press a kiss to her forehead while wiping the loose hair back and get to my feet, hopping as I pull shoes on.

I'm out of the house and down the road at a pace fuelled solely by adrenaline. I don't even bother to knock before I bust into Haymitch's house.

"Prim!" It's a guttural shout and I hear footsteps crashing above me. It only takes a second for Haymitch to pound down the stairway and Prim to pull a bag out of a closet.

"I told her not to go out!" Prim yells at no one in particular. Haymitch merely grunts as he pulls on his shoes and grabs the bag from Prim, heading out before us. "Let's go already!" Prim shouts and I'm once again heading out across the District with Prim on my heels and Haymitch jogging behind us both.

It's the sound of groaning that meets us when we open the door. Prim's face falls at the noises before she pulls herself together and puts on her mask.

"Peeta, get some cloths, warm if you can get them. A towel if you have it. And some water if you have any." Prim orders before disappearing into the room and closing the door.

Haymitch joins us when I'm bringing in the pile of towels I found in the cupboard.

"Fucking hell!" Katniss screams and Prim just reminds her not to swear from where she sits between her sister’s legs. "Don't - chastise me!" Katniss growls.

I don't bother with a chair; instead I climb onto the bed and brush the hair off of her sweaty forehead.

"Hey - this is good. Mom used to say I took two goddamn days to get out." I whisper against her ear. She doesn't laugh.

"It has been! Off and on!" Katniss yells, frustrated, and then I remember the way she'd acted the other day. I look to Prim quickly.

“Not too long. Your water only broke last night.” Prim corrects, reaching for a towel.

“All over my kitchen floor too,” Haymitch grunts from the doorway. I try to hide the laugh that bubbles in me – one born of pure excitement and adrenaline – but it still gets out. When the next contraction starts, Katniss nearly breaks my fingers in her grip and my mouth snaps shut instantly.

The next few hours are long and painful, drawing out the sounds of nightmares as they echo through the house. All too often when I look towards Prim I see her features tight in concern and it makes me nervous. She shouldn’t be looking like that. Prim’s too collected and focused to look like that.

When Haymitch pulls me from the room around midnight, my anxiety is blistering underneath my skin.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Haymitch orders and grabs my boots, tossing them towards me. I catch them haphazardly and stare at him in disbelief.

“You want to go for a walk _now_?” I gape.

“You’re stressing her out. She needs a breather.” He mutters in return and opens the door, motioning for me to head out first. Reluctantly, I pull on my boots and head out into the brisk night air with Haymitch on my heels. We walk silently along the road, the only sound around us the scrape of our shoes on the gravel.

Rounding the bend towards the square, Haymitch pauses behind me. When I turn around, the sight of his pale features in the moonlight nearly unhinges me.

“What happens after tonight?” Haymitch asks quietly. My shoulders slump at the question knowing all too well that nothing was resolved enough to give a real answer. He doesn’t really need one it seems as he nods knowingly and turns back towards the house.

My feet stay planted to the ground as he disappears back into the darkness. I don’t move for a while, instead letting the wind catch my hair and nearly push my thin frame over.

In all honesty, I don’t know what comes next. I thought the transition would be fluid – that we could just keep on the way we were heading. But now that it’s here and that it started in the middle of a fight I’m not so sure what comes next. I _do_ know that I’ll be damned if I let her go. I can’t let her go – not now, not ever.

I don’t really have the answer when I walk back through the door.

It doesn’t matter though because the sound of quiet that greets me when I return to the house makes my blood run cold. I don’t bother taking off my boots before I stumble through to the bedroom, my eyes scanning the scene frantically. In the corner Haymitch stands, his arms cradling a pile of blankets as Prim lays next to Katniss, their knees touching as Katniss curls in on herself. The sight makes my chest clench.

It’s the sound of a baby’s cry that brings me back to the present and makes me turn once again to Haymitch whose eyes are as wide as mine as he looks towards me. The momentary panic, the feeling that everything had gone wrong, leaves me as I step towards the small child swaddled in blankets.

“May I?” I whisper to Haymitch and the man nearly thrusts the child towards me, walking from the room as soon as I have it in my arms.

I sit for hours, cooing the child to sleep. When the light of dawn filters through into the room and still Prim and Katniss haven’t moved I realize that everything has been still for too long. It’s too quiet. Something isn’t right.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, don't kill me. I'm sorry this is late. I wanted to be sure about my direction and choices. If you want more of a look into my head, join me over at tumblr where I bumble around, lollercakesff


	11. Chapter 11

The small crib sits in the corner of my room, its paint chipped and its mobile stuck, but it’s the best that Thom could provide when he found out what had happened. In fact, the whole Seam, even those who didn’t work in the mine, had pulled together at the news. Delly had even stopped by with a blanket from Gemma’s storage.

There hadn’t been a discussion about me returning to work afterwards and thankfully, the money I’d saved had already been integral to my being able to take time off from the mines. It somehow had all worked in a way I’d never thought it would.

Getting up from the edge of the bed, I make my way to the kitchen and retrieve one of the bottles full of formula from the fridge to heat up. Surprisingly, after the birth of a child, the Capital rewards the parents with a care package laden with baby formula and other small items to ease the burden of another mouth. I guess I’d never thought of it before, but it makes perfect sense now, especially with the way they favour couples. The package has already been a lifesaver.

Making my way back into the room, I stare over the edge of the crib and watch as Mason breathes deeply in the midst of sleep. I’m almost reluctant to wake him but with his small size and his tendency to wake instantly hungry around this hour, I figure it’s for the best.

We sit together in the rocking chair that someone dropped on our doorstep a few days ago. He barely rouses as I wrap him in a blanket and lean back, carefully observing him while he hovers on the edge of sleep. When I look at him like this, in the quiet and the stillness, I see his father’s eyes, his mother’s lips.

I try not to stare too long.

“Hello Little Bit,” I whisper and he shifts awake, his lips opening immediately.

The feeding is easy. The diapers are easy. Waking at two in the morning is easy. But not having Katniss here is not.

It fucking kills me.

* * *

A month passes. Thirty-one days to be exact.

I start to wonder if this is even possible to keep up. The rations come and I subsist, but just barely. When the first crops burst through the ground and the price of food is high, I bide my time.

The spring is already uncharacteristically dry. Even the preserved water from the snow is running low.

I wonder if District 12 will make it. If any of us will make it. If it’s worth it to make it.

* * *

“Are you going?” Delly asks as she sits beside me in the square. I’ve got Mason tucked against my chest, sheltered from the rising sun, as we sit and watch the skeletal figures roam the center of town.

I never thought I’d be sitting here talking again with Delly after all we’ve been through. It just hadn’t seemed possible after the last time we had gotten together. But something changed. The day after Mason had been entrusted to my care I found Delly on my doorstep. I’d been wary at first, unsure whether to even let her past the threshold. I’d never expected the first words from her mouth to be that she was breaking our engagement.

But she was. And for Gemma. I’d stood there, stunned, as she apologized for the way she’d acted these past months and explained that though she’d never wanted to admit it, she’d always loved Gemma in the same way that I’d always loved Katniss. All the days of teasing, of bullying from Gemma – it’d all been a way to hide the attraction. We’d both been trapped by the deals of our mothers. We were never meant to be lovers.

After that day, Delly had somehow slid back into my life as the friend she’d always been. Though there was still a mountain of unspoken issues between us we were working through it, determined to move forward with our lives.

We considered keeping up our arrangement, if only to try to feed ourselves, but even that proved to be too tricky. Thread always seemed to be lingering somewhere in town, watching, waiting. Every bread delivery he asked about Delly. And then about Katniss. There was no doubt that one day he was going to find out and everything would come tumbling down.

I didn’t know what I’d do when that day came. I tried to avoid planning for the future lately.

 “What am I going to?” I ask, my voice bordering on baby coddle as I smile down at the child. He’s fully distracting, his little hands drawing most of my attention.

“You mean you don’t know?” She tries again only this time placing her hand on my shoulder to turn me towards her. Tearing my gaze away, I meet her tight expression with a questioning glance. “Oh,” she exclaims quietly and looks towards the ground.

By now, all of District 12 seems to know our story. How Gale died in the mines. How close Katniss and I became. And how after the birth of her child she disappeared behind Haymitch’s doors, abandoning her child to my care.

They say big things happen in a rush, all without thought or consideration. But this didn’t happen fast. It was slow and drawn and horrible.

After Mason’s birth, Katniss had laid in bed for two days. Not even Prim could rouse her as she stared off into space. It was in this time that Prim did everything for her sister – cleaning her, talking to her, trying to fix her. None of it seemed to work. I’d been at my wits end, desperately trying to get the unfinished papers in order to notify the Capitol of Mason’s birth while providing for everyone who worked to bring her back to reality. When it finally came down to it, Mason had been named solely based on a passing remark Katniss had made a few weeks earlier. On the third day, when we tried to encourage her to hold him, she’d screamed bloody murder until the whole house had been thrown into a tailspin.

It was on the fourth day that Katniss and Mason were moved to Haymitch’s house, refusing to take visitors. Prim had returned on the fifth day with Mason, tears in her eyes as she quietly confessed that she didn’t think she could take care of them both. I’d tried to keep it together as she cried at the kitchen table but there was no calming the rushing of blood in my head.

From that moment on, Mason was my responsibility. Though I’d never envisioned _this_ scenario, I didn’t dare back down.

“What am I missing here Delly?” The words creak out past the lump that’s formed in my throat, the possibilities all rushing by too quickly. In my arms, Mason can feel the tension building. I bounce my knee instead, distracting us both as Delly returns her gaze to mine.

“The Wind Ceremony. They’re having one for Gale tomorrow morning.”

It’s like a punch in the gut. A terrifically horrible shot into my abdomen that makes the air rush from my lungs in a violent gasp. It feels like I’m choking as I struggle to breathe and get my brain around the idea.

I’d thought I was ready a long time ago but the mention of it, the very idea of it, is like tearing a bandage off a wound and opening it up fresh.

Mason begins to cry, a loud wailing that draws me back and makes me focus on him. Brushing my thumb across his forehead, I nod briskly and grimace. Over the sound of his cries, I turn to Delly and ask for the details.

* * *

I’m not sure if we’re wanted here. We surely weren’t invited. But I need to be here. I need to see her. I need to say goodbye.

I try not to think I’m selfish by telling myself Mason needs to be here too.

But I’m a selfish fuck for thinking it.

Standing on the edge of the crowd, I watch as Prim stands at the front, Haymitch beside her and Katniss leaning heavily against his side. For just a moment I long to be there, to stand with her as she says goodbye. But I know it’s not right. It’s not my place.

And I can’t get past the fact that she’s abandoned us. Both of us.

Before us, the sun begins to creep over the hill’s horizon, its rays beating down on us all as we stand and observe. The moment drags on, silence permeating the crowd until Prim steps forward.

“To Gale Hawthorne,” She calls, lifting her hand and letting loose a fluttering mass of primrose petals.

In true fashion, the Wind Ceremony continues with those in mourning stepping forward and releasing something to the light breeze. For some, it’s a moment to speak on fond memories. For others, they symbolize their meanings with their contribution. In the end the released items are intended to represent letting go, the fluidity of life, and the final stage of life meeting earth.

When it’s finally my turn to step forward, I falter, hesitating slightly at the back as the people turn to look at me. I feel rusty as I step forward towards the front, my feet heavy against the dirt. The words I’d prepared seem lost to me as I stand with Gale’s child in my arms and finally meet Katniss’ steely gaze head on.

For the first time since before the birth, I see a flicker of something there.

“To the legacy he leaves behind and the future I’ll protect on his behalf,” I say quietly but proudly, my eyes never drifting from hers as I hold up my hand and let loose a fistful of baby powder. Neither of us watch as it sales through the air and carries on the current.

The first one to break the moment, I step back into the crowd and return to my place at the back just as Katniss steps forward. She’s walking of her own volition now, no longer needing Haymitch to hold her up.

“You always said you had things figured out,” She croaks, her voice cracking mid-sentence likely due to lack of use. I hold Mason closer to me as I watch her fragile smile falter. “You’ve said since we were young and foolish that you always took care of the ones you loved. And I thought you’d broken your promise. But even though you’re gone, you’re still somehow taking care of those you loved. Let the wind carry you home,” She whispers, concluding the ceremony by tipping his jar of ashes into the breeze.

The crowd lifts their hands in the traditional three-fingered salute before turning away and leaving the family to their final goodbyes. I hesitate, my eyes drawn to the front as the last of the ashes disappear and Katniss staggers on her feet, swaying until Haymitch moves forward and gathers her close.

I stand like that, distant and on the edge, as Prim and Haymitch cling to Katniss. My arms can only wrap tighter around the forgotten baby strapped to my chest. The air gets caught in my throat as I try to breathe through the despair coursing through me.

I can’t take it. I can’t.

Letting my feet take the lead I let them carry me hastily down the hill, my mind racing frantically as I think about bolting. It isn’t long before I’m on level ground and my thoughts turn to transferring Districts, getting as far away from here as I possibly can. As far away from this broken heart and abandonment that I can get.

So intent on running, I don’t notice my name piercing through the air until the hand grips my wrist, forcing me up short just as I’m about to round the corner. I turn, my face wet with unnoticed tears, and meet Katniss’ red-rimmed eyes.

“Peeta,” She whimpers lowly. The broken stare and the skin-and-bones look to her face makes me want to draw her in tightly and never let her go. But my brain knows better – it knows to step back. To give me some room to breathe. To hold Mason closer.

I don’t move a muscle.

Watching her, we’re locked in a standstill as her eyes flicker between me and her child. I didn’t realize it before, but I want her to love him instantly as much as I do. I want her to take him and raise him with the love that she should have had since day one. I want so much from her that I can’t stand it.

“Why?” It’s out before I realized I even thought it.

“I’m sorry,” She apologizes.

It’s not enough.

“No – _why_?” I ask again, my voice breaking pathetically. I hate that she wasn’t there for her son. I hate that she wasn’t _her_ the last month. I missed her.

“I couldn’t – I couldn’t do anything. I didn’t know how to breathe let alone take care of him. I was drowning and I couldn’t do anything.” I look away, breaking the gaze first as the heel of my hand rubs against my forehead.

“You have a son, Katniss,” I shout. The people loitering on the streets turn towards us, drawn in by the noise. Katniss shrinks under their gaze and I see the flicker of light in her eyes flare. I take the opening and unclasp Mason from his place against me, stepping forward until I’m close enough for her to reach out and take him.

She hesitates. For a moment, I think she’s going to step back, but then she reaches out and takes him into her arms, holding him like an impossibly fragile object. The emotions that cross her face move from outright fear to adoration within seconds.

“He’s beautiful,” She whispers and strokes her finger down his nose. I don’t know whether to cry or rejoice. I’m torn between anger and relief knowing that in this moment, as she holds him, she’s falling in love with him in the same way I did. And it scares me because I love him _too_. And I don’t want to stop.

But I have to if she needs me to. Mason is hers. Not mine.

I don’t know if I can live with that.

* * *

I let her get lost in the son she’s missed out on these last few weeks.

No, I guess it’s not _let_. There’s no _let_ about it. Mason doesn’t come back to the house after the Wind Ceremony and I can’t bear to look at his empty crib in the corner of my room.

I move back to the bakery that evening, putting my box of stuff on the bakery table and crawling into the sole bed in the empty room where I used to live. It doesn’t feel right here either, but I don’t have much of a choice.

I don’t really belong anywhere.

* * *

I return to the mines. I return to baking. I return to focusing on the way my stomach grumbles when the rations are late or the misery that comes with falling asleep in the suffocating, hot bedroom upstairs.

Days pass. Too many of them too slowly for me to truly understand. Though there’s some food in my cupboard, I don’t eat. Instead I just go through the motions of letting the days slip together.

On the next parcel day, Thread makes it a point to bring up the breaking of my engagement with Delly. I try not to let him see the surprise on my face – especially because it’s so obvious that he would _know_ these things. I just didn’t think she’d filed the paperwork so _soon_.

“Didn’t think the baker would have a bun in the oven and a ring on another finger,” Thread laughs as I hand him the loaf. I wish I’d burnt it. “Well, I guess no longer a ring. Did she finally find out you were wetting your dick in a safer snatch?”

I want to pummel him. I want to put my fist through his face.

“It’s none of your business,” I state firmly and turn on my heel. I stop dead though at my cart when his shout reaches me.

“It’s my business if you’ve been defrauding the Capitol, Baker Boy.” He calls.

I try to shake off the threat and the tension but it sticks with me like sap.

* * *

I’m in the middle of falling asleep after a third double when I hear the knock on the door downstairs. I debate not answering it. Ignoring it.

But then it comes louder and more insistent.

Rolling to my feet, I stagger my way down the stairs and into the bakery kitchen, rubbing my eyes with my hands before turning on the low light overhead. The figure outside is in shadows, backlit by the street lamp, but even before opening the door I know it’s her.

“Katniss?” My voice is scratchy, barely used now and coated with dust from the mines. She whips around so quickly her braid nearly claps me in the face. Like a deer caught off guard, she stands frozen, watching me as I look at her. When still she doesn’t speak after a moment, I frown and hold open the door to beckon her inside. “Is everything alright?”

“No,” She answers and my heart triples its beat. She must see it in my eyes because she shakes her head and laughs nervously. “No! Mason’s fine. Everyone’s fine. Except,” She pauses and I see her fingers fiddle with her braid.

The sigh slips out of me before I can stop it. I’m tired. I want to go to bed. I want to not play this game with her anymore.

“Everything’s not fine. I miss you so much it hurts,” The last part I almost don’t hear. “Every time I wake up, before I go to sleep, when I hold him – it’s always you in my mind. And it’s okay, because I know Gale would want this – he’d want us to be okay after everything. I know that this is okay now. It’s okay to feel this with you. You said you’d always be there but you haven’t been. And I don’t care about Delly – I never did – it was stupid of me all along. I want _you,_ Peeta.”

“I thought you didn’t want me around you,” I reply shortly, still frustrated and confused at her words. My brain doesn’t want to believe her but my heart is racing at what she’s saying.

“Honestly? I barely know which way is up right now. But I know that you help me figure out the right way. I need you, Peeta, like the air I breathe, I need you.” She steps towards me, her arms still at her sides but I can see them itching to reach for me.

In this moment, I have two choices. I can let her go – move on and shut her and her heartbreak out of my life. _Or_ , I can believe her – give her one more chance and see if it works.

Some would call me a fool, but I still choose her. Hands down, every time.

“I said ‘always’, didn’t I?” I question quietly before leaning into her and resting my forehead against hers. We stand like that until her lips find mine, slowly pressing with a spreading heat that coils my insides and spreads down my neck like a fever.

Everything moves fast after that. Lifting quickly, she sits on the table in the center of the room, allowing me to step between her knees and meet her lips and tongue with mine. My fingers trace her cheeks, the shell of her ear, before trailing down her neck and to her waist.

“Need you,” She gasps, in between bites of my lip and the drag of her mouth to my ear. I’m guilt struck but I can’t stop. I can’t deny her as I move my hands up and pull her shirt off before unclasping her bra. When she’s bare from the waist up, I stand back and take in the sight of her. “Don’t,” She whispers and tries to cover herself. My hands find hers and pull them away.

“Don’t hide – every inch of you is beautiful,” I murmur and run my hands across her ribs and up to her breasts. My lips find hers again as she rocks against me, all shyness disappearing as we get lost in each other.

I’m brought back to the present by the feeling of her fingers on my pants, her hands slipping along the elastic waist of my sweats and dipping below and against my skin. I don’t stop her as her hands wrap around my length, sliding softly and eliciting a moan from my throat.

“I want you, so much,” She hisses in my ear and I can feel her hands squeeze tighter and move quicker, revving me up until my hips are jutting towards her. I feast on her skin as though in a frenzy.

It all happens too quickly. I find myself pulling at her trousers, trying to shift them while my mind screams at me that this is too fast. I try to ignore it. I try.

But I can’t.

Ripping myself from her touch, I grip the table on each side of her, my nails pushing into the wood as I try to get a hold of myself.

“Peeta,” She growls, her hands coming to rest against my chest. “Don’t stop.”

“I can’t,” I swallow thickly and step back, pulling away from the heat of her as she shifts awkwardly on the table. I can’t look at her – if I do I’ll surely do something I regret. But I feel empty without the feel of her near me. “Katniss, I’m sorry,” I whisper and clutch her hand as it reaches for her shirt. She shakes me off, her breath hitching as she pulls it over her head. It’s probably best this way – I can’t help that I’m sapped of energy already.

She doesn’t say a word as she slips off the table and straightens her clothing and hair. I finally get a look at her then – the way her face is flushed, where the wrinkle between her brow has returned.

“Katniss,” I start, begging her quietly to look at me but she resists.

“I should go,” She states gently and moves towards the door. All the feelings of her leaving, of knowing what not having her with me is like, come flooding back into my body and I lurch for her, slamming the opening door with my palm.

“Don’t leave me again,” I whisper frantically, pathetically. When she finally turns to face me, her face is coated in tears, her grey eyes storming.

“What do you _want_ from me?” She cries out. I can’t bear it. My arms wrap around her tightly and I pull her close.

“I need you, too,” I pause and pull away, looking into her eyes. “I want you. I just... I want this to be right. I don’t want to rush to have you on my kitchen table – I mean,” I laugh thinking about my words as I stumble over them. “I _want_ you on my table. But I want it to be right. We can’t fuck this up. I love Mason too much to lose you both.”

The scowl on her face only seems to tighten for a moment before softening.

“You love him?” She croaks hesitantly. I nod and pull her hands towards my chest.

“I love you both, so much.” I admit and lay it all out for her to see.

I couldn’t live without her. I know that. I’m barely getting by without seeing Mason. A future without them is unimaginable. And even though we still have healing to do, I know that we can only do it together.

“Stay with me, tonight,” I ask quietly and step back towards the staircase, hoping and praying that she’ll follow.

“Peeta, wait.” I pause and return my gaze to her and where she stands hesitantly. She takes another step forward until we’re both by the stairs, watching each other with bated breath. In another moment, she’s grabbing my hand tightly in hers and leading us upstairs.

When we finally crawl under the covers, she presses a kiss to my lips and then pulls away until the light from the window softly illuminates her features.

“Is this okay?” She asks and presses another chaste kiss. I pause for only a moment before returning it and pulling her body flush against mine.

“Yes,” I whisper in reply and capture her lips with mine.

We lay there like that, sharing kisses and soft breaths, until we start to fade away with the night. It’s only when finally her breathing steadies with sleep and my arms are wrapped tightly around her that I feel my body relax into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late (and even worse on a day like today) but Wednesday really kind of was a mindfuck of a day and so I excuse excuse excuse. I love you guys though. Seriously. For more garbage and me, come visit on Tumblr: lollercakesff


	12. Chapter 12

“I’m no good at taking care of my baby,” Katniss admits. We’re lying on our backs in the bedroom above the bakery, our steady breathing the only sound as morning light filters through the clouds outside.

“Do you love him?” I reply quietly, trying to reassure her the way I know she understands things best. I think I’m maybe also hoping that she’s as desperate about him as I am.

“Yes – what kind of question is that?” Her tone is biting as she moves onto her side, her lithe torso pressing flush against mine.

“I just mean,” I pause, my eyes finding hers before brushing her unravelled hair away from her face. I want to make sure I say this right. I _need_ her to know that I’m on her side but that Mason is in my heart as well. “I mean that you love him and that’s all he needs really.” Her face softens at my words and she rests her head against my chest.

“A good mother doesn’t leave him for the night. She doesn’t leave him like I did.” She states, her breath tickling my skin while her words break. I can only listen quietly as she continues on. “I should have snapped out of it sooner. Should have realized and held him sooner. I,” She pauses before twisting until I can feel her eyes on me again.”I was being my mother. And I should have told you sooner what you meant to me. But it all felt wrong. I kept thinking of Gale and how he wasn’t here for his son and everything he would miss and how _angry_ I was at him for leaving us.

“But then I remembered the day you came over with Prim. And how you sat there and kept me company. I remembered that he was your friend and that he would want me to be happy.” When she pauses again, this time she pulls herself up until she’s sitting in front of me, exposed and raw. “You have to understand, Gale didn’t have a lot of friends. But you were different – he talked about you like you were one of his brothers. And that might seem weird, but I think this is what he’d want for me. For us.”

I let her words sink in for a moment, struggling internally with the raging emotions I’m trying to hide. I know Gale would want her to be happy – I don’t doubt that for a moment – but with me? I can barely provide for myself, let alone her. At least not with the drought.

“What happens now?” I wonder aloud. Katniss shifts until she’s lying once again on her back next to me.

“I don’t know.” She responds quietly, letting her fingers knit between mine.

* * *

It’s breakfast time when we finally leave my bed. On any other day I’d be concerned that I’m late for work.

I’m not today. Not even a little.

Instead, I watch from the edge of my bed while Katniss re-braids her hair in the mirror that Delly had always used. There’s nothing familiar about it anymore. The thought makes my stomach churn as I remember what Katniss and I had last argued about just before Mason came.

“It was never Delly,” I murmur, averting my eyes when Katniss looks at me in the mirror. I catch sight of her tying the end of her braid before she turns to face me fully, her arms wrapped around her torso.

“What does that mean?” She prompts hesitantly. I sense the fear in her words, the twitch of jealousy in her emphasis.

“We had an arrangement, with our families,” I start, finally looking up to meet her eyes. When she takes in my sincerity and the way my features try to lock stoically, she shifts until she’s sitting on the bed next to me. Slowly, I take her hand in mine, thankful that she’s not forcing me to look at her while I confess everything. “Delly and I, we’ve only ever been good friends. When our parents left the District, they agreed to leave me the bakery on the condition that I would marry Delly,” I pause, considering whether to leave out the fact that I’d also agreed since she’d married Gale.

The past doesn’t matter anymore, I decide, and rush on. “We tried for a long time to become more but it wasn’t ever going to work for us. We both wanted something else. But because of the drought, and the way things are, we thought it best to keep pretending so that we could get the extra rations – fat lot of good that did us,” I mumble under my breath and Katniss lets out a wheeze of laughter. “When Gale died-“ I start at Katniss’ hand gripping mine.

“When he died, I missed him so much. I couldn’t even think about what was going on around me and what I needed to do to make it through the day to day tasks. But when Prim came by... I realized I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About how hard it must be for you. I didn’t want you to face it alone. I’d have done anything to help you then – I still will – I just, I was trying to play both sides.

“It got hard though. Delly and I, we fell apart. That’s when I moved into your house. And I guess you know what’s happened since then.” I finish and look at her sadly, leaving out the fact that there’s more to the story that I just can’t bear to tell.

It takes a while for her to digest it; at least that’s what I understand from her as I watch her profile in silence. When she finally does return my gaze, her eyes are sparked like they were last night.

“And what about now, are you still engaged to each other?” I shake my head no and she smiles slightly. “That’s good.” She pauses for another second before shifting until her legs are touching mine and our eyes lock. “Marry me.”

I gape. My jaw drops and I’m sure my heart stops in my chest.

“Wha-what?” I stutter. Her fingers grip tighter around mine and her smile hesitates.

“Marry me. Even if it’s only for the extra rations. Even if it’s only in title. I can live with that. As long as you’re with me – I can live with that.” She reaffirms repeatedly and I’m staggered. Though she doesn’t say what I long to hear, I know there’s something she’s not admitting. I’m terrified that she’s saying this all out of duress. That she’s scared for herself. For Mason.

“We don’t have to do that. Everything will be better soon. I don’t want you trapped in a sham with me. You deserve so much better.” My cheeks redden as I get to my feet, desperate to put distance between us in fear that she’ll see through my facade.

She does. And she’s at my side in an instant.

“You won’t be trapping me. I promise. Think about it. Think about it, please,” She asks quietly as her hand rests on my shoulder. I’m staring out the window at the heavy clouds hanging over the District when she moves and rests her chin on my shoulder to look with me. “I should get back to Haymitch’s. Prim said she’d take care Mason for the night but I need to get back to him.”

I stand in the window for another moment, listening as her feet softly pad through the room as she picks up her things.

“Can I come?” I burst, turning to look at her while a flush creeps up my neck. I’m embarrassed and giddy and nervous all at once. But when she looks at me – when she smiles and a familiar blush runs up her neck – everything seems to disappear.

“Always.”

* * *

 “Oh thank god,” Haymitch grumbles as we step through the door. Though I haven’t once let Katniss’ hand slip from mine during the walk over, I’m forced to let go when Haymitch thrusts Mason into my arms and disappears out the back door.

I’m not surprised he’s in a rush to leave – the sound spouting out of Mason’s mouth is nerve racking.

“Are you okay?” Katniss asks worriedly, stepping up on her toes to caress his face. I nod, overwhelmed and excited to have Little Bit back in my arms. Especially as Katniss looks on. _Because_ Katniss looks on. “I can take him if you want?” She offers. My eyes meet hers for just a moment and she smiles.

“I’m okay,” I affirm and shift Mason in my arms in the way I remember he always liked to be rocked. His cries slowly seem to settle and I can’t help the sheepish grin that splits my face. Katniss’ smile is just as bright as she looks back at me.

Making our way into the kitchen, Katniss walks ahead and begins pulling open cupboards. It doesn’t take long for her to discover that most of them, once stocked with canned goods, are now bare.

“I wonder where Prim is,” She mutters, slowly coming back to the table empty handed. Though my stomach clenches in hunger, I feel almost used to it now. And I find it doesn’t really hurt so much with this child in my arms.

“She’s probably out trying to trade,” I reply and join her at the table. Mason stirs in my arms, his tiny hands reaching up mindlessly. “It’s time for his feeding, isn’t it?”

Katniss nods and returns to the cupboards, pulling loose a can and a small portion of water to mix the formula. Handing the prepared bottle to me, she watches with a tightly knit brow as Mason inhales the liquid.

“I’m a bad mother,” She starts again in the quiet of the kitchen. I scoff openly, watching as she looks away. “Don’t laugh – I am. I can’t even nurse him like a mother should.”

“That doesn’t make you a good or bad mother, Katniss. You can’t change that fact right now.” I pause and tap the table, drawing her attention back from the floor. “Mason is just fine. You have your whole life to show him how good of a mother you are.”

She nods but continues to frown until she gets up to pace.  

I let her settle into her pacing, unsure of whether to disturb her during an act that seems to calm her. In all realities, I’m still a little confused by what has transpired since Mason’s birth. I know that answers won’t come immediately – I know that I need to be patient – but I’m nervous about this version of Katniss. I’m nervous that I’ll set her off into despair and that she’ll leave us again.

That she’ll leave me.

I try not to think about it too much though, knowing that if anything I’ll just start to doubt myself and the feelings she claimed for me yesterday and this morning. Instead I busy myself with coddling Mason, playing with his fingers and toes as he naps in my arms.

The comfort I feel when I’m with him, when he’s in my arms and snuggled close like this, I know will be hard to duplicate. My place here is known – my role in his life, at least for me, is clear.

While Katniss paces, I remain seated. For a long while this continues in the quiet of the house.

* * *

When Prim finally returns home from the market, the house seems to pick up in liveliness. Haymitch returns with a bottle of wine, already half devoured, and instantly launches into his torturous morning being left with a crying Mason. Katniss only sasses him in return, finally having taken Mason from my arms when she stopped her pacing.

“You mean you didn’t know he just wanted to smell something human and not drunk?” Katniss snips. Haymitch balks as he looks to me. I can only shrug in return as I set the table.

Dinner that night consists solely of a bowl of chicken stock with a few herbs. Prim apologizes profusely for not getting anything but the bones to make the stock. I’m the first one to stop her apologies.

“Don’t worry about it, Prim. The rain will come soon,” I console quietly. Out of the corner of my eye I see a sad smile lift the corners of her lips.

We all know that if the rain doesn’t come soon, none of us will make it through the summer. There’s only so much that rations can do before we all wither away into nothing.

“Will you start hunting again now, Katniss?” Prim asks carefully after a while. All the heads at the table seem to turn to the woman coddling her baby at the end, completely avoiding her soup as her attention remains steadfast on the little body in her arms. It takes her a moment, but then she lifts her head and grins.

“Yes. Yes, I can do that.” She answers brightly and her eyes flare with excitement. I can see it rising in her, the familiar draw to the forest that she and Gale had loved so much. I long for her to look at me in that moment, to share her excitement, but she never does, returning her gaze rightfully to Mason.

I stuff the feeling of uncertainty down in my gut and spoon up another mouthful of soup.

Once dinner has finished, Haymitch disappears outside to the porch while Prim and I clean the dishes. Katniss offers but we both decline her assistance knowing full well that she deserves every moment with Mason that she can soak up right now.

I can see it by the way Prim watches her sister she’s waiting for it too.

For the moment when Katniss might disappear again. Just like she had after Gale’s death. And just like she’d done after Mason’s birth.

I was determined not to let that happen again. Ever.

“So, when are you planning to head back to school?” I prompt quietly once Katniss has disappeared to put Mason to bed. I watch as Prim’s hands stop mid-way to putting a dish back in the cupboard.

“I don’t know just yet,” She answers carefully, setting the plate down and looking at me. “Peeta, I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into all this. I never knew that when I brought you over for lunch that day that this would be so hard on you. I’m sorry,” She states so quietly I almost don’t hear it. My reaction is almost instant.

“Prim, no. Don’t apologize. Please. I want to be here. I would have found my way here regardless. Katniss is... She’s who I want. Forever. It was meant to be this way, you just helped it along. And I’m glad you did – I’m glad I could help with Mason for that time. I’d do it all over again if I had to – I swear,” I pause, looking towards the staircase and any signs of Katniss returning. “I _love_ her, Prim. I will be here for her, whenever she needs me. Whenever _they_ need me.”

Prim nods slowly, turning my words over in her head for a moment. When she looks back at me, a small frown fills her features as she asks words that seem to pain her. “And what happens when she fades out again? Will you still be there then?” 

“I will _always_ be here for her. Hell, I would have been here every goddamn day if you and Abernathy had allowed it.” I add lastly, insinuating that it was _them_ keeping me away though somewhere inside a voice is calling me a liar. The same voice that’s reminding me of all the days I was too scared to see if my presence would do any good. Prim let’s it go, instead hustling to return the rest of the dishes as she hears footsteps on the staircase.

“Prim, can you listen for Mason while I walk Peeta home?” Katniss asks, her voice carrying down the hallway and into where we stand in the kitchen. I meet Prim’s eyes carefully, determined to make her see that I’m not going anywhere, before she shouts her okay. At that, I turn to head down the hallway but am stopped by Prim’s hand on my arm pulling me up short.

“Be careful with her Peeta, she still has her moments,” Prim warns under her breath, dropping her hand when Katniss comes into the kitchen. She’s smiling brightly, her eyes alight as she looks towards me.

“Ready?” She prompts and I nod, giving one last nod to Prim before I go to pull my boots on and leave the house.

* * *

“Are you going to move back home?” Katniss asks when we’ve reached the bakery landing. I turn to her, confused, our hands dropping as I open the door with my keys.

“What do you mean?” I ask hesitantly, opening the door wide and motioning her inside. As far as I know, this is still my home despite how lonely it is.

“I mean, are you going to move back my house? It seems only right since we’ll be married and all, besides, Haymitch is wondering when I’ll be out of his house already,” Katniss continues absently and I frown, turning towards her and lifting my hands to her cheeks. She smiles, her whole face lighting up, as she leans in and presses her lips to mine. It’s wonderful and soothing and everything I want from her, but I have to pull back momentarily. To see her in the light.

“I don’t want it to be fake, Katniss,” I start, nervous about having this conversation again.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be. You’re already so good with Mason. We can just go from there,” Katniss insists. I have to step back, putting distance between us while I reach for chairs for us both. I set them on either side of the table, watching as she slips into hers before I sit across from her.

“And what if you decide that that’s not what you want once you’re back on your feet? When the drought ends? Won’t I just be in the way?” I word carefully. I don’t want to destroy this – not at all – I just want to be sure. I need to be sure that her words aren’t just fueled by endless desperation.

“What are you saying, Peeta?” Katniss replies, her hands clenching together on the table top. Her smile has fallen and she won’t look at me, despite me being in her exact line of vision.

“I’m just worried,” I sigh, reaching out a hand to cover hers lightly. I long to hold her. To have this all be exactly right right now. But I need it to be sure. “I don’t think I could let you go if you let me in. I already know I can’t let Mason go – he’s too important to me. I... I love you. And I want to be with you. But I know that you still miss him – I still miss him too. You just need to be sure about this.” 

“How will I ever know for sure? Tell me when this will stop hurting and when I can know for sure that I love you!” Katniss shouts, the words leaving her lips quickly just before her hand shoots up to cover her mouth. Squeezing her eyes tight together she refuses to look at me as I stare at her.

We both take a moment to breathe while we digest her confession. I’m stunned, unsure of whether to push it or whether to leave it alone. If she’s being honest, I think my heart will explode. If she’s panicked and thinking I’ll leave, I want to reassure her. There are too many avenues to choose. So instead I stay silent and wait for her to gather herself. When she does, it’s her glassy eyes that meet mine over the table while she wears a wobbling smile.

“I loved Gale, Peeta. I did. But he’s gone. And you’re here. And even though it took me a long time to realize it, I can’t imagine you not _being here_. So I don’t know if it’s love or if it’s just friendship, but I know, for me, it can be something. Because I feel it in my gut. Just... Right now we need to make it through. So just, be engaged to me. Figure this out with me. Please. Please don’t _leave me_.” She whispers urgently at the end, turning her hand over until it’s gripping mine back.

Without thinking, I come around the table and turn her chair, crouching down before her as my hands grip hers.

“I’m more worried about _you_ leaving. About you disappearing on us again.” I state honestly. I look at her from my position at her feet, practically laying myself bare.

“I can’t promise that I won’t. It’s in my blood. It’s my mother in me. But with you I’ll have a reason to try. Trust me to try.” She pleads. Her shoulders are hunched and she looks like she’s on the edge of tears as we face our biggest fears about each other.

I don’t know when it got to this point – how we became so needing of one another without even realizing. All I know is that the desperation I feel for her now seems to be mirrored in her eyes and I won’t be one to deny her. I know that it won’t be easy. That we have so much still to face.

“I trust you.” I murmur quietly and move to my feet, pulling her with me out of her chair.

We walk with our hands tightly bound together, up the stairs to the room where we started our day. Slowly, we undress each other until only our undergarments remain.

“I still...” I start nervously, staring at her bare olive skin that entices me. I flick my eyes back up to meet hers and grin sheepishly. “I still want to wait.” I finish and she nods slowly, leading me back until we’re both on the bed.

Under the covers though, our hands roam each other’s bodies, tired of resisting the urge. I can do this, I think to myself as my hands run over the cleft of her breasts. My lips take on a mind of their own as my mouth captures hers in a languid kiss. We lay like that, touching, exploring, and experimenting with our sounds until my breathing becomes heavy and my mind begins to spin.

I notice then that it’s not the touching that’s making me feel this way – though it is stirring my body into a frenzy – it’s the lack of food and the way my energy has depleted itself from my system. Today’s broth for supper was not enough and now I’m feeling the resonating fact that my body is weak.

Pulling back slowly, I press a final kiss to Katniss’ lips and rest my forehead against hers.

“We should sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.” I mutter. I feel her nod in reply and it doesn’t take long for the spinning to stop and my body to slip into a numbing sleep of exhaustion.

* * *

The bed is moving when I next know consciousness. Sitting up halfway I look around me as the darkness fills the room. It’s not yet dawn, still sometime in the late evening, and the bed is moving. And Katniss isn’t here, despite me remembering her being here when I fell asleep. My body jerks, more alert now after realizing the fact and I look around the room until my eyes land on the very edge of the bottom of the bed, the darkest part of the room.

Katniss is hunched over the edge, her body fully clothed as she jerks every few seconds.

“Katniss, are you alright?” I ask hesitantly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I shift until I’m sitting next to her, leaning over to see that she’s pulling on her boots.

“Yes, I’m fine. I need to go home for Mason’s feeding. Go back to sleep Peeta.” She replies in a whisper. I frown, confused and a little put out that she was just going to leave me here in the middle of the night without telling me. I try to stuff the feeling down.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” I ask instead, not really wanting her to go but understanding that she needs to.

“No, you need to sleep. I’ve had a month of it – I’m all rested up. I’ll be back at breakfast.” She reassures and leans in for a kiss. It’s light and comforting, an easy goodbye, before she pulls back and lets her fingers run down my jaw.

“I’ll miss you,” I murmur as she moves towards the door leaving my failing body on the edge of the bed. I see her smile in the low light before she slips from the room and closes the door behind her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say on this one, just that I hope you all have a wonderful day and week.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss

I’m standing in the Hob watching Peacekeeper Thread as he bargains for a pig’s head. He doesn’t have enough money from what I can tell and the shopkeeper is nervous to continue to deny him. Watching from a distance, I feel bad for the shopkeep. Denying a Peacekeeper is a risky job, especially this one who is undoubtedly something worse than Old Man Cray ever was.

At least that’s what I know, ever since his leering eyes followed me when Peeta and I had a run in with him.

Granted, that day was already hard for me, having gone by the house to find Peeta no longer there. I’d thought for sure he’d decided to leave – that he’d had enough of my nightly visits and needed some space. It had taken me over an hour to get my emotions calmed down into something more controllable before I’d remembered that he always bakes on delivery days. By that time, I’d been raw with my emotions, fully controlled by pregnancy hormones that were taking over my mind. When I’d found him at the bakery I’d tried my best to pull it together and let myself be normal.

It had worked, for the most part. I’d even held it together when the baby kicked and I was about ready to crack apart – I was so close to shattering into a million pieces. The baby kicking usually forces me into a state of near panic. I don’t know whether it’s the hormones that Prim keeps talking about or something else, but every day I feel as though I’m on the verge of falling to bits.

I can barely contain the fear of this child, the fear of being alone, and the fear of the future, from consuming me with each passing day. The only soothing balm I have right now is the time I spend with Peeta and I hate how terrifyingly needy I am for that time. It scares me. My body scares me. My future is scaring me.

Before me, Thread slams his hand down on the stall counter threateningly, calling back my attention as his voice rises over the hum of the people in this black market.

“Give me the goddamn head or you’ll face the stocks for illegal trading!” Thread shouts. All around him shopkeepers begin to tuck away their expensive items, ready at any moment to flee from the Hob should the Peacekeepers turn on them. I myself turn back to the woman whose trading spare fabric and offer her a handful of coins that Haymitch had given me. We finish our deal quickly, me tucking away the fabric for diapers and her tucking the coins in a pocket on her skirt before she begins pulling down her display.

I’m already on my way out of the Hob when I pick up my pace, the feeling of someone following me pricking at the back of my neck. I’m almost to the entrance when I feel a hand on my shoulder, pulling me backwards and forcing me around.

“Well, look who we have here...” Thread seethes, his eyes running over me and making my skin crawl. I’m disgusted, partly because of the way his eyes roam and partly because I’m clearly not available with my belly this big. Even Cray wouldn’t harass someone with child and that man can barely be classified as human.

“Peacekeeper Thread,” I spit darkly and step back from the distance he’s closed between us. My arms instinctively cover my belly, hiding the bulk of cloth while at the same time trying to protect my child. I feel cornered despite being in public.

I hate him.

“Where is your baker now?” He sneers, stepping towards me again and lifting my braid in his hand. I want to vomit and it’s not just from the way my back is threatening to give out on me with these cramps. I want him out of my space. I want to go home to Prim.

“He’s at home, I believe. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to be getting back.” I turn on my heel quickly, stuffing down the disgust of his hands on me, and head towards Haymitch’s with a renewed pace.

Ever since leaving my house earlier today in a bad mood after Peeta told me he wouldn’t come for dinner I’ve been feeling on edge. I didn’t _like_ being mad at him – sometimes I simply just _was_. But when I’d gotten back from my visit and Prim had seen the scowl on my face she’d immediately told me to go ‘walk it off’ – her favourite way of telling me to exercise my mood away.

And sometimes it worked. When I first started falling into these moods Prim had advised me that my body was likely feeling the loss of my daily hunting. When they continued for months she started insisting that it was hormones. When the days turned dark she stopped trying to explain it and began looking for solutions.

Only some of them worked, and not all of them worked enough.

So I spent a lot of time walking lately. Wind, rain, snow – none of it stopped me from leaving Haymitch’s house in a huff and making my way over to my home. By the time I arrived I was often calm enough to relax into Peeta’s company. When Peeta was at work though I was left to my own devices, often walking through the Hob and trading little things for the baby.

Today was no different.

Except earlier Peeta had kissed me. And then done absolutely nothing about it before starting to act out of sorts. It had been unnerving and I know I hadn’t handled it right. I’d gone off on him and treated him terribly. But I knew something was off. I just didn’t know what.

Walking away from the Hob and back to Haymitch’s I began to relax again with the distance put between myself and Thread. I was completely lost in my thoughts, torn between continuing to be frustrated with Peeta and getting my own thoughts back on track, when I heard his name nearby.

Slowing my pace, I took in my surroundings and tried to pinpoint the discussion while I walked. I was near the community home, a place on the border of the Seam where I’d always been afraid to go since my father died.

“Are you going to end it with him then?” The girl standing in the home’s yard asked angrily. My foot paused mid-air and I shot a gaze to see the woman shouting. I nearly stumbled then when I took in the sight of Delly Cartwright, her jaw slack as she looked on at the woman before her.

“No, why would I end it with him _now_?” She screeched in return.

The blood seemed to thrum in my veins as I tried to listen and continue walking.

“Oh, maybe because he’s _cheating_ on you!” The first woman replied angrily as my stomach dropped to my feet. From the corner of my eye I see Delly step forward towards the woman. “Don’t! Don’t touch me! Go be with your lying cheating husband-to-be. Just don’t come crying to _me_ when he knocks her up again!”

I feel sick.

I feel faint.

I can’t get out of there fast enough.

Bursting through Haymitch’s front door I don’t even bother to remove my wet boots before I discard the diaper rags on the front table and race to my room. Once inside, though I long to slam the door, I shut it gently so as to try to avoid drawing the attention that having a fit would cause.

Inside though I’m _seething_.

How _dare_ he put me in this position? Make me out to be just another Seam whore?

My hands begin to shake whether with fury or hurt or simply lack of sustenance as I pace around my room, my boots clicking against the floorboards.

I don’t even notice as day to turns to night. I know that somewhere in my haze Prim finds me rambling to myself but all she does is make me sit down while she smoothes back my hair. When she leaves, I don’t miss the sound of her voice explaining to Haymitch what she thinks has happened. After she’s done, there’s the distinct sound of a ‘thump’ and crack before Haymitch yelps, clearly in pain from whatever he’s broken this time.

None of it seems to snap me out of my simmering anger though. 

My mood doesn’t seem to improve over the next day. Instead I stay cooped up in my room, my measly meals brought to me by a cautious Prim who explains that Peeta’s been by and he wants to talk to me. I all but laugh in her face as the bitterness swoops through me. She can only smile sadly at my reaction before she leaves me alone again.

* * *

It’s the pain that pulls me from my scattered sleep, ripping me back into the real world with a jolt that makes my body seize up. The blood curdling scream rips from my throat and brings Prim at a run to my room, Haymitch quick on her heels.

In no time, she evaluates me and tells me that it’ll still be a while. That the initial pain that woke me wasn’t as strong as I thought it was. That it’s only going to get harder from here and I should try to rest up before the long haul.

I’m terrified when she leaves to start preparing. I’m scared when Haymitch stares at me with his mouth agape.

“What do I do?” I ask him, my voice pitched.

“What do you want to do?” He counters carefully.

When neither of us answer, Haymitch leaves the room and turns out the light leaving me to turn back in on myself and the terror that’s slowly filling me. With each passing moment I’m consumed by my neediness to see Peeta which is then followed by my intense desire to throttle him for every game he’s played with me.

The pain comes and goes throughout the next while. Twice I get up to leave only to be guided back to my room by a stern-faced Prim who advises me not to go out ‘in my state’.

But every time she tells me not to leave I grow a little more desperate and I feel a little more unhinged.

When finally the pain brings me to the edge, I escape out the back door of the house while Prim is occupied in the bathroom. I make it halfway to my old house, determined to see Peeta, before the pain almost brings me to my knees on the edge of the road. I force it back down, swallowing my groans as I stagger towards my house. I barely notice the dripping feeling running down my legs as I open the door and head to his room.

Landing in the chair at the edge of his bed, the pain forgotten for the moment, I realize that this was a terrible decision. But it’s too late now as he stirs awake and meets my gaze with his.

I’m not sure what I expected when I confronted him about Delly. Maybe I’d expected something more than the lies he fed me or the way his pain seemed to resonate off him like a beacon. I could have forgiven him in that moment for all his actions but I’m not clear of mind. All I know is that when the next contraction hits me and I snap back to the reality before me I’m desperate to make him stay. With every moment that he insists he needs to get Prim, all I want to do is curl up into a ball and make this all go away.

Every touch of his hands burns me. Every press of his lips rips my skin. My emotions, ever increased by the pain in my body, run wildly out of control as I hate to love him.

Once he’s finally gone to get Prim I truly realize how alone I am. Curling into myself I lay prone in the bed, shaking and thankful that it’s not in the bed Gale and I once shared.

* * *

I’m not all aware of what’s happening to me. I know that the pain has finally stopped. That I was aware before but now it’s more of a vacant memory. I know that Peeta was here but then he left. My light had left, right when I needed it.

And now it’s dark. And there’s a body near me, but it’s not big enough to be my light and it’s not warm enough to heat my cool skin.

I feel like I’m drowning in myself. Locked away under the water that clouds my mind and suffocates the pain that once scorched through my body.

I feel empty. I miss my best friend. I miss the man that I love. They once used to be the same person, but now I’m not too sure and it scares me. I’m not too sure of anything.

* * *

“Katniss, would you like to hold him?” Prim asks, shifting a baby into my view.

I can’t stop screaming. I don’t know why.

They take the baby away and I roll over feeling empty.

* * *

Everyday Prim sits me on the porch and lets the sun light my skin. She tells me it’s good for me, that it offers vitamins that will help me regulate my body and return it to a more natural state. I don’t say a thing.

I haven’t said a thing since I gave birth to my son.

They called him Mason for me. Because I’d told Peeta once that I loved the way the vendors in the Hob used old mason jars as light covers. I’d wanted to laugh when I found out, but nothing had come out of my mouth when I’d tried.

Every day now Haymitch sits with me on the porch. The only sound between us is our breathing and the creak of the boards if we shift where we sit. He doesn’t talk until one day when he tells me about how he lost his wife.

It makes me cry – a good solid cry that seems to break me and reform me into some semblance of what I used to be.

I ask where Mason is that night. Because I hadn’t been able to ask before – not when my words wouldn’t come. Across the table Prim drops her fork as my words break the now ever-present silence that accompanies our barren dinner table gatherings.

“Peeta is taking care of him,” She replies carefully, watching me. All I can do is nod despite the way my insides hum.

* * *

When I’m not on the porch I’m sitting in my room, staring, staring, staring, at the jar that haunts me. The one that sits on my shelf. The one that hold’s Gale’s ashes.

I _know_ what I’m supposed to do with them. What Hazelle wants me to do with them since she couldn’t afford to bring the family back here to do it herself. But I haven’t been able to just yet. I just can’t.

I can’t move forward. I can’t move backwards. I’m stagnant. Frozen in this hell between living and starving.

* * *

“It’s time, sweetheart,” Haymitch mutters to me one afternoon. We’re on the porch again, soaking in the sun’s rays as they shine down on us and bitterly remind us that there are no clouds on the horizon.

The last few days I’ve moved forward, albeit slowly. I get up out of bed without being dragged. I eat what little food I get. I talk. I move. I slowly start to come out of my fog.

I call my mother who Prim has described as ‘concerned’. She tells me what I’m experiencing is natural for some mothers. That I need to keep trying. I’m not reassured by her call but I’m not worried any more either.

“Time for what?” I reply, taking his bait. Haymitch looks to me then, meeting my gaze head on.

“Time to let go.”

I spend the next two days saying goodbye to Gale. I take his ashes with me while I walk the fence line. I explain how bad of a mother I’ve been. How I’m sorry for letting him down with every decision I’ve made since he left.

But in those moments I find reassurance that Gale wouldn’t want this of me. He wouldn’t want me to abandon our child, nor would he want me to shut myself out of love. Wasn’t he the one who had to talk me into it in the first place? I realize then that he would approve of Peeta. That he’d be okay with it.

And his approval is what I’ve been needing all along to calm this storm that’s been raging inside of me.

* * *

Peeta learns about the Wind Ceremony without any of us telling him – I’d sworn them not to do it fearful that if he was told outright he wouldn’t come. I’m not surprised when he shows up though; he’d always had his ways of knowing things.

When he takes his place at the front of the crowd, my child strapped to him like it was his own, my body awakens. My heart beats heavily in my chest and I finally feel the breath in my lungs. His words nearly shred me, not because of what they are, but because they so clearly represent how broken he is as well.

For the first time in too long, I want to be near him. I want to meet that child he holds so dear. I want that future with him.

So when after the ceremony is done – when I’ve finally let go of Gale and his death – I chase after Peeta before he can escape my grasp. When he asks me ‘why’ I stutter over my words, terrified that I’ll screw it all up.

But Peeta knows. He can always see through me. He can always see inside of me.

I only hesitate for a moment when he holds out Mason to me, but once he’s in my arms, once I have my child for the first time cradled in my grasp, it’s like a new life being breathed into me.

* * *

“Katniss, you should really try breastfeeding him,” Prim calls to me over Mason’s screams. I’m seemingly at my wits end as my child continues to cry uncontrollably since Haymitch brought over his formula and items from my house.

I’d wanted to ask if he brought Peeta but I knew I couldn’t. Not yet. There was still a moratorium on mentioning him around the house for fear of setting me off into a tailspin.

“It might not be too late and it’s really best for him,” Prim adds, bringing me a blanket and motioning me towards a chair in the front room. Instantly the realization begins to kick in of what she’s doing and my blood starts to rush furiously. All of my fears, my doubts, begin to claw to the forefront as I question whether he’ll take it. Whether my body can handle it with its distress.

I can’t bear the idea that he’ll reject me. But instead of saying this to Prim, of communicating my fears like I know I should, I simply follow her directions and rest Mason in my arms. I let Prim guide me for the most part, shifting my body and instructing me on how to properly present my breast. None of this is instinct. It all feels foreign. Especially when Mason latches on, surprising me with his force, and drags a small whimper from my lips.

No milk comes.

Prim convinces me to try on the other side, remaining positive as she guides my arms into place.

Still no milk comes.

My body refuses. Mason screams. I yell for Prim to get the bottle of formula before I shatter.

I refuse to try again. I know my body won’t do it. It’s a waste of time. I’ve fucked up too many things to give even this most basic sustenance to my child. But still I stay present, determined to give him some semblance of the mother he deserves. I hold him nearly all day, rarely letting Prim take over or even Haymitch when he offers. I know it’s selfish but I already missed so much.

Mason is napping when I next find myself alone on the porch with Haymitch. Somewhere along the line the man has warped into some distorted father figure for me. I’d never tell him, but I’m pretty sure he knows how much I rely on him to tell it to me straight. That’s why I don’t balk when he finally breaks the silence on Peeta.

“What’re you going to do about that lovesick fool?” He grunts while holding his bottle between his knees. He leans forward ever so slightly so as to not have to meet my eyes while he asks.

“I want to see him,” I reply carefully. Haymitch snorts under his breath and then does the unthinkable – he turns to face me, breaking our silent code of avoidance.

“And when you do, are you going to keep putting him through the ringer or do you actually plan to thank him properly for everything he’s done for you?” His words are mean but necessary. Accusing me of stringing him along and then using him and his kindness.

Which is exactly what I’ve done without ever meaning it.

I take in Haymitch’s words and consider my behaviour with Peeta since Gale’s death. Despite wanting to use that as an excuse I know I can’t justify it. Peeta has been just as screwed up as I am over these past months and to belittle that with my own selfish attitude would only make things worse.

What I really need to consider is whether I truly feel for him what I’ve convinced myself he feels for me.

The recognition is nearly instant.

Peeta _is_ who I want. Peeta has been a constant anchor in this storm that I’ve been living in and it’s only fair that I tell him, that I make him _see_ , how much I feel for him.

Turning back to Haymitch I give him a weak smile, excusing myself from the porch to his guffaw of laughter.

* * *

It doesn’t quite go according to plan.

That night when I go to him, when I try to convey what I’m feeling when I can’t get out the words, I nearly bungle it all up again. He tells me _no_. He says he _can’t_. And I nearly run so fast from the rejection that I could have sworn it already happened.

But because he’s _Peeta_ , and he’s the light that’s brought me out of the darkness before, I listen when he asks me to stay. Instead of me running home, I join him in his cold bed. I feel his ribs poke through his shirt while my lips press gentle kisses to his. I try to reassure him. To tell him with my actions how I feel.

When the morning comes and we live a day of normality I finally feel a reprieve. I know that there is still so much I need to address. So much I need to move past. But I know that Peeta is what I need to help me. When he denies my proposal I realize how ridiculous it sounds. I take the rejection in stride, determined to keep moving forward until he catches up with me.

That night when I go home with him again I long to see the light return to his eyes – the light I used to remember when he’d show up on his way to work looking for Gale. All I want now is to ease the hunger pains that claw through him and to fill out the bones that he’s become.

In his bed once again I let my hands roam his body. I take pleasure in the groans that escape him. I revel in making him feel something good that’s he’s been denied for so long.

After we stop though, I realize just how exhausted of energy he is. He falls asleep nearly instantly, his breathing heavy as though he’s trying to catch his breath. I realize then that his hunger is more than just an outward thinning – that my Peeta is disappearing along with the rain.

I can’t sleep, not after I notice how thin his cheeks are or how prominent his hips are. Instead I lay awake until I can no longer lay still.

I give him an excuse that I know he’ll buy. I say I’m going home to feed Mason which is only partially the truth.

I don’t tell him that when Mason is fed I’m going to take Prim’s advice and go into the forest to finally start fighting back against this hunger in a way that I haven’t yet tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, another Katniss chapter. Hopefully it gave a little insight to what's going on with her so you don't all just think she's being crazy Katniss. Also, I'm concerned about getting the next chapter up on schedule for two reasons: 1. I just hurt my wrist at the gym and while I'm whining about it, it's actually hurting pretty bad while I type, and 2. I'm halfway done a DD submission for this week that I'd like to finish. Just thought I'd let you know the next update might be late. Let me know what you're thinking after this.


	14. Chapter 14

I think maybe I imagined the part where she said she’d be back for breakfast. I mean, it’s possible. I was pretty incredibly dead to the world when Katniss left sometime last night. But I think that happened for real.

And even if it did, I know I shouldn’t be bothered. She’d gone home to take care of Mason and that was a good thing – hadn’t it been the one thing I’d wanted since his birth?

I was basically mentally chastising her for doing everything that I’d wanted her to do already and now I was frustrated with myself. 

That realization had stunned me and I’d locked the thoughts away as I got ready to return to the mines.

The walk to work had been long – the rising sun creeping up my neck as the day started to begin. With every inch that the sun rose, I couldn’t help but resent every step I was taking towards the mine. All I wanted was to return to my life in the bakery. To be with Katniss every day and watch as Mason grew up. To be there for them both when –

“Mellark, where have you been?” Smits calls my attention out of my wandering thoughts as he stands at the entrance to the mine with a cigarette hanging from his lips. I pull up short, unsure of how to answer exactly what’s been going on with me lately. “You’ve missed three shifts this week, boy,” Smits adds almost as an afterthought.

“I’m sorry – things are...” I struggle to find the right words. Things aren’t ‘falling apart’ but they’re not necessarily ‘coming together’ either. Smits nods knowingly, having a vague grasp of what I’m dealing with outside of the mine.

“I get it – just know that there’s other men here. Hungry men...” He trails off, looking away.

I can only nod as he head’s inside, leaving me to digest the fact that he’s talking about giving away my job. About firing me if he has to. The idea makes my blood run cold through my veins and I quickly shuffle into the mine and down into its depths while vowing not to miss another shift.

* * *

“Peeta! Peeta, _please_ ,” The voice echoing in my head is frantic, its pitch hurting my ears as my mind swims back into consciousness. Slowly as I come to I realize the ground underneath me is dirt. That the air I breathe is thick with dust. That I’m still clad in my uniform overalls. Opening my eyes, I suck in a thick breath and sit up quickly, my head spinning as the body above me jerks backwards. I hear them stumble as my eyes come into focus.

“Katniss?” I gasp, trying to steady my breathing. I feel like I can just barely pull in enough air to be sitting upright before her hand is on my shoulder forcing me onto my back again.

“Oh, Peeta,” She whimpers as she looks down at me, her hands pressing to my cheeks and across my chest. Her face is smudged with dirt, her hair running loose from its braid and her cheeks are flaming red.

“You passed out again, kid,” Thom mumbles from somewhere beyond my head. I watch dazedly as Katniss snaps her head up and looks above me with a scowl.

“ _Again_?” She hisses. I reach my arm up until it rests over hers on my chest. Squeezing gently, I move to sit up while keeping her fingers clutched between mine.

“It’s not a big deal,” I insert carefully, looking to where Thom stands behind me with a few other fellow workers.

“Not a _big deal_? Peeta! Are you fucking crazy? Do you know what Prim would say if she heard that?” Katniss yells, her red face furious as she looks down at me again. “You need to _eat_ , goddammit!” She shouts more forcefully.

I’m taken aback by her anger, confused at the lash of her tone. There has to be more though, I’m convinced, because right now she’s here somehow and she’s still letting me hold her hands in mine despite how angry she looks.

“Katniss, I’m fine – look, all good. Okay?” I attempt, raising my left hand to her cheek. She swats it away and gets to her feet, reaching down to grab a paper bag before tossing it in my direction.

“It’s not okay!” She bursts. I see her eyes snap between the other workers, her colour draining as she looks down at me again.

It happens almost in an instant as she steps backwards, her hands flying to cover her mouth as her eyes squeeze shut. I’m on my feet quickly, grabbing her up by the arms as her legs shake unsteadily and she gasps.

This was too much like what had happened to Gale. Too familiar and terrifying. And I’d belittled it.

Yanking herself away, she refuses to look up from the place on the ground that she’s staring at as she addresses me.

“I brought you some lunch because I was late getting back. I’m going to go home and talk to Prim about this and I’d like it very much if you came over after your shift.” She states, formality lining every tightly controlled word that slips from her lips. I try once more to wrap my arms around her – to steady her shaking core as she stands before me – but she pulls back and turns, stomping through the coal dust as she disappears out the door.

My heart plummets as I look to see Thom instructing the men to return to the mine. This can’t be good. I know it.

“Peeta, let’s talk,” Thom says, turning to me with his arms crossed over his chest and his helmet askew. “Look, I know you’re trying to get a handle on things here and support your... friends,” He stumbles and I falter.

“My family, Thom, - they’re my family now,” I insist. He nods briskly and shifts on his feet.

“I know you’re just trying to help your family here, but I’m worried. It’s dangerous to be doing what you’re doing. Not to mention how dangerous it is for the rest of your crew. What I’m trying to say here is, take some time off. Get some food into you if you can-“

“No! Thom, no, please!” I beg, stepping towards him as my hands shake. I need this job. I need to do _something_ to keep my worth and show Katniss I’m valuable for something. The idea of not having this job, of existing only to subsist on others’ support is unthinkable. “I can work – don’t fire me, _please_ ,” I croak, taking in his furrowed brow.

“I’m not firing you Peeta. I just need you to take some time off until you can get through a shift, you hear?” Thom repeats, grasping my shoulders tightly before stepping back. I feel my head nodding in agreement, fear lacing my blood. I won’t have a job after this. He can say I’m not being fired but I’m not stupid – I know that this job will be snatched up while I’m off shift.

I’ll become useless. I won’t have anything to offer.

Lifting my helmet and lunch from the floor I turn and walk unsteadily from the building as Thom returns to the lift office behind me. I make my way home, slowly trying to stifle the way my breathing riffs on terror and uncertainty. I don’t know what I’m going to do now – I know that I can’t face Katniss until at least the end of my scheduled shift. I can’t bear to let her know that I no longer have anything to offer. Instead I head back to the bakery to hide out until this evening – to try to get a hold on myself and come up with a plan.

But I’m not alone when I get back to the bakery. Peering through my windows is Peacekeeper Thread, his hands pressed against the glass as he shelters his view from the sun. I almost consider turning and walking away – too exhausted to deal with this – before he spies me in the glass and whips around.

“Mr Mellark!” He snaps, his gaze hard. He barely hesitates before stepping forward to confront me, pulling my helmet and lunch from my hands and dropping my gear onto the ground. He tears at the paper bag, exposing the crust of bread and chunk of meat that are packed within. My stomach drops, instantaneous fear filling me as I realize this is just what he was after all along. “Well, what do we have here?” He taunts, unwrapping the meat and lifting it until it touches his nose.

I hate him and everything that he represents. I hate every second that he spends breathing on the lunch that I deserve.

“This smells like squirrel meat, boy,” He threatens, leering at me as his tongue flicks out to taste the edge. “Tastes like it too. I knew you been into the forest – how else would your grubby ex-finance be feeding those brats at the community home?” He snarls and before I can react to his accusations – before I can even comprehend that he’s talking about Delly – he’s cuffed me upside the head with his fist and I’m falling to the ground in a lump.

* * *

I wake up cold. I wake up to a crowd around me, chanting and hollering filling my fuzzy brain. When my eyes open I see wood panels and a pile of black. And then a pile of my own clothes. And then my blood on those clothes. At least I hope it’s my blood.

Instantly my body reacts, thrusting with an upward jolt that only seems to hurt me more as my body reams against the wood panels holding my hands and neck. My mouth lets loose a screaming yell of surprise and pain as it begins to understand my predicament.

I’m spending far too much time unconscious, I think to myself as I come to, twisting and groaning as my head throbs. I take in the fact that I can’t move much slower than I’d like as my neck twists and catches on the wood of the stocks again.

It’s only after I’ve strained instinctively at the restraints that I realize I’m not alone up here. Shifting, I hear the crowd around me as I freeze. My heart nearly stopping. 

The sound of a feral crowd fills me as I struggle more with my hands being bound. All around me, people are clamoring to witness destruction – the only thing left they can consume. My stomach drops to my feet at the noises of the people, some cheering, some hushed disdain. All without mercy.

“Shhh, Peeta!”

Delly. Delly can’t be in the stocks. They never put women in the stocks.

I turn my head slowly, the pain resonating through my body as I try to see her. I get so far as to see her fingers before I can’t turn anymore.

“What is happening?” I moan. The body I used to rely on so fully is now failing me.

“You’re in the stocks. Thread is watching. Just be quiet!” She insists but I can’t. I can’t get my mouth to shut up. I can’t get anything to work, especially not while my legs continually go weak and my body lurches with the increased pressure.

“Why? Where’s Katniss?” I remember carrying the lunch she’d brought for me. Her poached meat.

Oh god I hope she’s not here. My thoughts immediately flicker to Mason and my blood starts to rush again in my ears.

I couldn’t bear it if Thread did something to her. To him.

“Peeta _please_ ,” Delly cries again. But she’s too late. Behind me I hear boots on the platform, echoing in the air around us as the crowd hollers with excitement. Slowly, the boots come into my fuzzy view.

“Mr Mellark, so glad you were willing to turn yourself in,” Thread’s voice rings out. The crowd seems to quiet suddenly, almost as if hanging off his every word.

“What the fuck do you want?” I croak. I need to shift my feet before they give out again. I nearly fall. Thread laughs sickly.

“Ms Cartwright here was caught distributing unsanctioned meat this morning,” Thread starts and my blood runs cold. I try to look up and meet his gaze but my neck won’t extend far enough and I’m left staring at his belt. And the whip in his hands. “She claims you had no knowledge of her affairs – what with you no longer being engaged – but I beg to differ. I would actually wager that you knew _all about_ her poaching. What with all those _new_ mouths you have to support. And with how willing you’ve been to defraud the Capitol with your mockery of an engagement...”

He pauses, his feet starting to pace across the platform as he lets his whip down. It trails along the ground threateningly.

I can’t help but wonder where Katniss is.

I’m too afraid to ask.

I’d rather take a whipping than know she’s hurt.

Where’s Katniss?

“I thought you both should be left up here to see what happens when people break the law. I was just about to send out a search party, but then you made my job _so much easier_.” He taunts. I watch as he lightly whips the ground, teasing us with the display that he knows is the only thing our eyes can see. Beside me I hear Delly whimper.

“It’ll be alright, Delly,” I whisper quietly. The sentiment enrages Thread as he paces before us and the whip slaps the ground angrily.

“Be quiet Baker, or the next snap will be on your back,” He threatens, his voice seething. The hairs on my arms rise up as my nerves crackle. I bite my tongue, physically silencing myself from asking any more.

I don’t want to know if Katniss knows what’s happening. I don’t know where she is.

I don’t know if she’s abandoned me again.

I hope she’s with Mason. Dear god I hope they don’t have her.

“A night in the stocks should serve you two well. We’ll have to see what tomorrow brings. Who knows if you’ll still be standing?” Thread’s voice rings out and the crowd erupts in shouts. I don’t know whether they’re anticipatory or furious. It doesn’t matter. My body again tries to revolt in its restraints, forcefully reminding me that I can’t go anywhere.

Thread comes down to my level, his sick breath blowing in my face and I cringe at the sight of his angry eyes.

“You might be here longer, if the birds don’t get you first.” My body reacts again viciously, my head rearing as a guttural sound is pulled from my throat. Hands flexing, neck burning, I let my eyes follow him as he rises back up.

And brings the butt of the whip down against the side of my face before a scream rings out and everything goes black.

* * *

When I come to again my head is throbbing. My vision is blurry at best, my legs are tangled, and my eye is half swollen closed. I think I’ve even nearly bit through my tongue. Either that or it’s blood from my cheek.

“Delly?” I ask, my voice thick and painful. I hear her whimper next to me, her body shifting as she tries to ease the obvious strain on her legs and back.

“I’m _sorry_ ,” She groans sadly. I hear the chains on her feet rattle as they shift against the boards.

All around us people still watch. Though I can’t see them I hear their voices – no longer threatening or calling out. Instead they’re calm whispers amongst groups.

I don’t know if they’re more threatening or not.

“Delly, is he here?” I ask quietly. If Thread’s here I’ll surely know it. He’ll likely slam me into unconsciousness again and I won’t wake up until the middle of the night.

Maybe that would be better. It’s already evening now. I’ve made it through most of the day.

“No. One of the Peacekeepers came and got him. They’ve got Darius standing guard but he’s almost harmless,” Delly replies calmly, seemingly smoothing out her reactions as I come to. I’m thankful for it because right now my heart is beating wildly in my chest and my stomach is growing for anything to eat. I can’t remember the last time I ate and being stuck here is only making it worse.

“What _happened_?” I’m not sure if I want to know but I know I _need_ to know.

“You got knocked out, I think. I couldn’t see you but the way Katniss was screaming I thought he’d killed you,” She whispers trying to avoid raising Darius’ attention. Her recollection astounds me and makes panic start to fill me.

“Katniss? She was _here_?” I whisper frantically, my hands struggling instinctively as I become more aware of my position. It starts to sink in almost immediately – Katniss was here. Katniss watched Thread as he hit me out.

I don’t even remember it. Was she okay? How much had she seen? Had Thread caught her? The last thought was almost the absolute worst for me. The only thing worse would be if she checked out mentally again.

If Katniss was unhinged, if she was lost or ‘drowning’ as she’d described it, who was taking care of Mason? Who was taking care of _her_? Where _was she_?

“Peeta-“ Delly starts again and my moan cuts her off as my mind gets dizzy and my body slumps heavily in the stocks as my legs give out. “Peeta come on, stay awake.” She cries frantically, her voice still trying desperately to be low but failing. I hear the crowd around me rise a little and I’m near on the brink.

“Where is she? Is she alright?” I honestly don’t even care that I’m in the stocks right now. All I care about is Katniss and if she’s safe. If Thread has her. If Mason is getting his dinner.

“Mr. Abernathy came and took her, I think, at least it sounded like him.” Delly responds carefully. I can tell she’s being precise with her words. She always punctuates with emphasis when she’s being careful. “Peeta, I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this.”

“Is she _alright_?” I nearly shout, focusing on how she’s avoiding the question. I hear wood collide with wood as Darius shouts at us to shut up.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, I don’t know. She was with Haymitch, I’m pretty sure. And I think she walked away with him.” Delly tries reassuringly. I try to take it as a good sign but I don’t know if I can believe it. If I know Katniss, this could either destroy her because she thinks she’s lost me or this has just made her angrier after this afternoon.

But I can’t be sure.

“I wish they hadn’t found you,” She moans sadly, drawing my attention back and away from my dangerous thoughts. The ones that assure me that once I’m free I’ll kill him. I’ll destroy him if Katniss is hurt in any way.

“Tell me what’s going on Delly.” I state. I need to know, even if I’m only using it as a ploy to keep me conscious for the time being.

“I was _stealing_ ,” She admits softly, her leg kicking at the fabric still tucked around her feet. “Not poaching. But he thinks I was anyways. I was giving Peacekeeper chickens to the Community Home where Gemma works. They needed them more than the Peacekeepers did. Hell, some of them even knew what I was doing!” Delly hisses but halts as soon as Darius cracks his billy club against the wood again. She takes it as a sign and remains quiet for a long while.

I let the idea sink into my thoughts. I try to rationalize what Delly has just told me. I try to equate this Delly with the woman I knew – the one who stole from me and Katniss. Who stole from Mason.

They’re not the same person.

“Did he say what’s going to happen next?” I prompt after a while, the thoughts running through my head. There was still so much unresolved. So much to change.

“No. He just said the stocks. I don’t know if I believe him though. It seems too easy.” She admits and I nod in agreement. For Thread, it does seem too easy.

“Well, let’s just get through tonight.”

I hope we _can_ get through tonight. Though I don’t know how we will.

* * *

“Peeta,” The voice startles me and I roll my eyes up. I think I’m dreaming. Or that something is seriously wrong in my head. “Peeta come on, get up!” The voice tries again and I groan, my body protesting the movement of my arm as it’s pulled downwards. When a hand lands on my back, forcing my hips forward, I cry out with the change in position as my legs shake.

“Get him up, we need to go!” Another voice from nearby calls out. I shift around in my daze before the shooting pain in my arm overwhelms me. Someone is lifting my arm up. There’s a warm body next to me.

“Come on, Peeta. Walk with me here.”

So familiar. So warm.

A short scream bursts out from around us.

“Shut her up!” Another voice yells. I hear a noise like gagging and my blood starts to thrum. It all seems to come back to me in a rush as I remember where I am. What was happening. What was going to happen.

My first instinct is to push away. To lurch towards where I thought Delly to be. To try to save my friend before the Peacekeepers took her away. I hadn’t gotten so far as to figure out _where_ they were taking her in the middle of the night but I didn’t need to know. All I needed to know was that I had to fight.

“Get off!” I croaked, my words jumbled as my throat screamed in protest at its use.

The figure next to me, the one holding me up, was pushed away by my flailing arm as I tried to move towards my friend.

In another moment, a large arm was around my waist, pulling me up from where my body was inevitably sinking towards the ground. Twenty hours in the stocks and no food or water was taking its toll.

“Delly!” I cried out. The feel of fabric pushing past my lips and flooding into my mouth made me groan.

They were gagging me. Silencing me. They were going to kill us. All for food. All for food that was rightly ours.

My mind couldn’t process what was happening fast enough as my body was released and they began swinging an axe against the chain at my feet. For an instant as I watched, bound and gagged on the ground, I was sure they were going to cut my feet off. Prevent me from running. But then the axe connected with the chain and the metal sparked.

The shadowy figure rose up again, swinging forth and bringing the metal down again. This time it separated, the metal coming loose quickly.

“Come on Peeta,” The first voice from before was back. Only this time I knew that voice. I _longed_ for that voice.

“Ka-iss,” I yelled through my gag, my word only barely escaping the cloth. The figure whipped towards me, its braid flying in the shadows of the street lights. I momentarily wondered where the moon was as I viewed the sky overhead.

“Shh, it’s okay,” She soothed, her hand resting on my forehead and running to my jaw. She repeated the motions until another figure over her shoulder called out.

“We’ve got her, let’s go.”

“We’ve got to walk now Peeta – can you do that?” Katniss asked lowly, shifting until she was gripping both of my hands while standing over me. I slowly tried to comply, rolling to my knees in an attempt to get a balance before my body protested the movement. Near me I could hear Delly crying through her gag, her own body unforgiving.

Finally standing, Katniss removed the gag from my mouth, apologizing quietly.

 “Where’s Mason? Is he safe?” It was all I wanted to ask now that I knew she was here, safe, in front of me.

She didn’t get a chance to answer before the heavens opened up and lightning cracked the sky, its sharp current sizzling around us as the street lamps flickered under the shock. Gripping Katniss’ hands tighter in mine, I pulled myself against her as the first drop of rain hit my forehead. I stood frozen as drop after drop swept down towards my dried and chapped lips, licking them clear as the overwhelming urge to cry with relief overtook me.

“Peeta, please, we need to go,” Katniss moaned as I leaned heavily against her. “We need to get out of here before-“

She didn’t get to finish her sentence as a hand came down heavily on my shoulder, forcing me out of her grip with a surprised gasp.

This was it. This was what Thread was waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another cliff hanger, mostly because I wanted to get this out because I've been so delayed by the holidays. Silly holidays, taking up my time. I hope everyone's enjoyed theirs and are looking forward to a wicked new year! Let me know what your thoughts and predictions are on this if you're so inclined. Now I'm off to the gym, merry fucking fitness to me. Come join me on Tumblr at lollercakesff if you'd like


	15. Chapter 15

I’m losing it. I’m fucking seeing things. This isn’t real.

 _This isn’t fucking real_.

“Gale?” I sputter, looking up with wide panicked eyes at the olive skinned, dark haired man that stands above me. His face is rugged, bearded, and shaded heavily by shadows. My heart quickens its beat, adrenaline and confusion and fear rising within me. I feel Katniss’ arms tighten around me as the rain begins to drip down my neck and I take in a harsh breath.

“Peeta, focus,” Katniss whispers and my eyes slide quickly between the two figures surrounding me. “It’s not Gale,” She adds, shifting until the man who _is_ _Gale to me_ frowns down at me.

“Rory Hawthorne, sir,” The man mumbles, his face shadowed and in pain. I nearly shrink away from him. Knowing who he is – knowing who he’s _not_ – doesn’t ease my anxiety.

In all honesty, I don’t know why Gale’s little brother is here. Why he’s standing _over me_ and _helping me_ when I couldn’t even save his brother. I can’t figure out if it’s justice or sacrifice that he’s trying to show by being here and the thoughts seem to spin furiously in my head as I grow even more confused with every second.

“We really need to go, Peeta. I promise, I’ll explain later,” Katniss whispers quickly and shifts until her shoulder is under my arm supporting me. Rory Hawthorne is on my other side in a second, trying to support me as we stumble off the platform.

We don’t make it fifty feet before Katniss is huffing and Rory grunts, frustrated.

“Katniss, let me just handle this,” He instructs forcefully. Before I realize even what’s happening, Rory is grabbing at my legs and lifting me until I’m cradled against his chest. It takes me by surprise, the way he’s able to easily handle me.

But then I remember just how much I’m missing now. How much weight and muscle I’ve lost since the drought started. I must be near a ghost and I hadn’t even noticed. Of course, realizing it now, everything begins to click into place. The looks people have been giving me, the way Katniss used to look at me with concern laced in her brow, today or yesterday or whenever it was with Thom... It all makes sense.

I barely recognize the alleys and side roads that they’re taking me through as Rory carries me along in the increasingly heavy rain. Every so often I get a glimpse of Katniss’ braid ahead of us and I’m able to relax my rushing pulse for just a moment. Occasionally, I come to enough to ask about Delly only to be told to be quiet while we move.

Time slips as we hurry through the streets and before I know it I’m resting in a bedroom in Haymitch’s house, a blanket over my shoulders that is failing to soak up my dripping wet hair. I’m shivering with the cold of the rain and the exhaustion as I sit heavily on the floor, leaning against a bed frame.

Beyond the door I can hear voices whispering furtively in the hallway that are trying to be secretive. I know it’s Katniss and Haymitch by the back and forth of their tones, each time rising a little bit higher. I try to listen closely, to capture what they’re saying, but I’m pulled from my concentration when Prim comes in from somewhere beyond me.

“Eat this,” She instructs, placing a bowl of thick soup in my lap before pulling up next to me.  She’s quick to start checking my vitals, her hands running over my bones looking for breaks, and her gaze lingering with mine for a moment too long.

“What’s going on?” I ask, dumbfounded. I know they’ve just broken me out of the stocks but I realize that I’ve really got no idea _why_.

“Eat, Peeta,” Prim instructs and moves my hand until it’s holding the spoon. When still I don’t lift it to take a bite she tries to move my arm upwards and I can’t bite my lip hard enough to stop from crying out. My arms hurt too much to move on their own. Again, Prim runs her hands along my arms, checking the joints and bones for damage. “It’s not broken like Delly’s,” She affirms and pats my hand softly. “Do you mind if I...?” She asks, motioning towards the spoon.

I nod, knowing that she won’t leave until I’ve finished the soup and the only way I’m going to get through it is if someone else feeds me.

We don’t say much as Prim ladles the soup into my mouth, slowly allowing me to chew the thick meat that’s hidden within its depths. I’m too embarrassed and she likely doesn’t want to explain things to me yet.

“That’s good, Peeta. You need to eat more. I’ve wanted to say it for a long time but I didn’t want to offend you. But with what Katniss has told me – about you passing out now – it looks like I can’t consciously ignore it any longer. If you don’t start improving your nutrition you’re going to see severe long term consequences from starvation if they haven’t already started. Maybe even death. No-“ She shakes her head when I try to interrupt. “No, you’re going to eat. You’ll take our offered meals without argument. Do you know why? Because Katniss needs you and so does Mason and there’s no way in hell we’re going to lose you now. Did you _feel_ the rain out there Peeta? The drought is over. It’s time-“

She’s cut off by a shout from the hallway, one that pulls both of our attention to the doorway and beyond. The argument seemingly stops and Prim’s face reddens.

“Katniss is hunting again. The rain has finally returned to us. You’ve made it this far Peeta, let us help you to the end, okay?” She finishes quietly, her hand gently squeezing mine. I nod absently, before shifting until my body is lying on the floor with the blanket fully tucked around me. Prim quietly takes the hint and stands again, watching me for a moment from the door.

They’d rescued Delly and I from the stocks. They’d put their own lives at risk and had brought us to Haymitch’s home as a safe haven. I’d been in the stocks, accused by Thread, of poaching. Something that Katniss had been doing and not actually Delly or myself. I was anxious about what came next and I couldn’t deny that I felt like they were putting all their eggs in one basket. It made me nervous.

“Prim?” A gruff unfamiliar voice pulls my attention to the doorway where Rory appears holding Mason to his chest. My heart leaps at the sight, my brain confusing him once again with Gale for just a moment too long. Before I know it, I’m standing unsteadily on my feet and looking up at the boy as he holds Mason.

“Peeta, you should sit down,” Prim instructs, turning away from Rory and helping me down onto the bed until I’m laying on my side. Every movement hurts and I wonder how I was so quick to stand up without any pain. “Here, it’s okay to relax. Do you want to see Mason?” She turns to Rory who can’t hide his frown before he steps closer and sits down beside me.

I look around at him from where I rest, trying to convey my appreciation without words. Rory only seems to frown more for a moment as he sets Mason down next to me so that he’s nearly pressed against me.

“I hear you’re to thank for my nephew being here,” Rory comments gruffly, his bearded face hard as he looks at me inquisitively.

“I think you can thank Katniss and Gale for that,” I reply and force my arm to move until it rests just around Mason’s sleeping frame. When I look up again, Rory is watching me closely, his brow furrowed.

“You’re a good man, Mellark,” He states and then moves back to where Prim is standing at the door. I hear their hushed tones and see out of the corner of my eye how Prim reaches up to caress Rory’s cheek before they leave the room together.

I’m distracted once again by Mason next to me and his small breaths, so rhythmic and calming. I wonder how long I can hide out here before Thread comes searching for me. Hiding me in a bedroom isn’t nearly enough to keep me from being found and I know I’ll need to confront him sooner or later. My worried thoughts begin to consume me with growing impatience as I’m left to my own devices while I hear footsteps throughout the house echoing on the hardwood floors. They’re methodic in their movement, often telling of more than just Prim, Haymitch and Katniss as I would expect.

Somehow the quiet sounds throughout the house lull me into a restless sleep, my body relaxing on the mattress with the relief from not being strung up. When I come to again it’s because Mason is crying next to me, likely looking for a feeding.

Moving until I’m standing, I momentarily pause, considering how I’ll pick him up with limited use of my arms which are still aching from the hours in the stocks.

“Are you going to help him or just stand there?” I turn to where Katniss is leaning against the doorframe, bottle in hand, watching me with a small smile on her lips. With the heat creeping up my neck, I try to close my hands into fists but they barely budge before trembling.

“I was trying to think of a way, I guess,” I reply lowly, staring at her and wondering if she’s really here. The last few hours seem an absolute blur to me now and I’m trying to put the pieces together but getting nowhere fast.

Bending before me, Katniss pulls Mason into her grasp before settling down on the center of the bed. Looking up at me from where she sits, she gently pats the space next to her invitingly while shifting Mason into his feeding position.

“Sit with me, Peeta. You can’t leave here until we’re ready,” She invites calmly and I join her without pause, shifting until my body is facing hers and our knees are touching. My wrists rest on my bent knees, limply reaching for the feel of her under to my fingers.

Just to be sure it’s real.

“What do you mean, ‘until we’re ready’?” I ask hesitantly after a while, flicking my eyes between hers and Mason’s head in her arms. When I finally settle on meeting her gaze, her grey eyes are filled with something I can’t quiet place.

“We have a plan,” She starts, breaking our held gaze to look at the child in her arms. “We have a plan to tear the fence down. Remove the boundary lines for everyone. So that... So that they can never string you or anyone else up for poaching,” She murmurs quietly. I can hear the faint hints of passion behind her words that decry her wary delivery.

“When did all of this ‘plan’ come together, Katniss? When did you invite Rory for it?” I prod when she doesn’t continue. My words pull a bark of laughter from her that startles Mason from his place in her lap. I watch as she calms his flailing arms, carefully tucking them back against her, before I lean over and run my weak hand over his brow.

“We didn’t invite Rory. He just... Appeared. Apparently he just finished his training and had gone looking for Prim at school. When he couldn’t find her he came here. Hazelle hadn’t even told him about Gale yet...” She adds quietly at the end.

“What?” I stare at her in horror, not quite understanding why Gale’s brother hadn’t known about his death. Katniss just absently runs her fingers through my hair, watching me as Mason finishes his bottle.

“Rory was in another District. Hasn’t talked to Hazelle since he went to school. I thought Gale would have told you, but I guess he didn’t get the chance. Rory was angry about the move – was angry at Gale for making him leave while he stayed behind with me and Prim. They didn’t – the Hawthornes are stubborn, you have to understand. He was angry and when he finally got the money to go looking for Prim he didn’t know what had happened.

“He just got here today. Bad timing. I haven’t really – I mean, I will – I just. I can’t talk to him right now and remember or else – or I’ll – I don’t know, maybe I’ll-“

I don’t let her fall apart as her words start to jumble together. Instead I push forward, my arms aching as they surround her lightly in an awkward Mason-sandwich hug.

“He understands. Prim has probably asked him to give you some time – that’s what she does to take care of you, you know. I can’t say he won’t want to talk to you about it – about us, probably – but if he’s anything like his brother he’ll understand how hard this is for you. I promise.” I mumble my words into her hair, desperately trying to comfort her from her own guilt.

We sit there together, my arms slackening until only my head rests on her shoulders, as Mason finishes his meal. When Katniss pulls away it’s only to gently pat Mason’s back until he burps before she lays him in my lap.

“We came up with the plan after Haymitch dragged me away from the square,” She starts carefully, reaching for the hand that isn’t lazily filling Mason’s attention. I nod signalling that I’m listening intently. “I thought Thread was going to kill you. I was freaking out by the time we got back here. I couldn’t believe – I couldn’t believe the charges he’d laid. As though you, in your condition, could go poaching in the forest? It was a goddamn lie! All because you burnt his bread that one time!” She huffs angrily before pulling in a deep breath. I let my eyes stray towards her as she continues; I’m desperate to ignore the feeling of annoyance that pangs through me at her insistence that I’m incapable.

“I think Bristel was the first to suggest it –“ I squint at her in confusion, but she only nods. “People from the mine came over when they found out. They’ve been stopping by ever since, asking how they could help. We laid out the basics of the plan within the hour. We would take out the fence – plain and simple. Everyone’s been starving – we’re all at our wits end. And when I explained how the forest still has good, salvageable food in it – it’s like it was solved.”

“So we take down the fence. Why did everyone waste the time to rescue me? You could have just taken it down in the dark before anyone knew any different. I won’t be helpful to tear it down – you’ve seen that I can barely move. Why not just leave me in the stocks until my punishment came due?” I ponder out loud. Katniss shifts in her spot, looking over my shoulder and biting her lip nervously.

“I’m sorry, Peeta,” She whispers almost inaudibly. If I hadn’t watched her lips move I doubt I would have noticed her speak at all. Her very words confuse me and send my thoughts spiraling.

“Sorry for _what_?”

“We needed bait.”

* * *

Prim brings me up more soup after Katniss leaves me to take a nap. I don’t sleep much, spending my time instead tossing and turning over what I’ve been told in the last few hours.

The pill is almost bitter to swallow. I’d wished she’d said anything else but that she was using me. I’d wished for any other possible answer that would have told me she actually cared. But she hadn’t. Instead when she’d taken in the sight of my obvious frown, she’d been confused and tried to act like she’d never said it. She’d bumbled on into the plan, outlining the details for me quickly before scooping Mason up and mentioning that I’d looked tired.

I’d said I wanted to be alone to digest everything.

I hadn’t wanted to be alone at all.

* * *

Dawn breaks through the continuing rain clouds for a moment as Katniss returns to the room, her clothing stained with rusty red and her boots still caked in mud.

“Are you hurt?” I ask quietly, watching as she stands in the doorway with awkward hands. She fiddles her fingers together momentarily, looking up with a snap at my words.

“What?”

“The blood – it’s not yours, right?” I clarify. I know in all likeliness it’s because she’s been hunting but I still need to be sure.

“Oh – yeah. No, yeah, I had to clean the meat before Prim let me out of the kitchen,” She pauses, watching me with a furrowed brow. I don’t move from where I’m lying on my side, my hand tucked under my cheek. “Look, Peeta, I... I haven’t slept and I was really tired when I told you the plan and I think – maybe – I think that I upset you.”

I watch as she falters, her hands twisting even more severely. Keeping my lips shut tight, I wait until she steps reluctantly further into the room.

“Are you mad at me?” She whispers. I chew the inside of my cheek before closing my eyes tiredly.

“No. I’m not mad. I just –“ I pause and focus my gaze on hers. “Was I _only_ rescued because I’m bait?” It sounds so pathetic out loud – like I’d made it into this big thing in my head that I couldn’t move past.

But when she steps towards me, her face falling as she hears my words, I can’t help but hope it wasn’t true.

“Peeta,” Her words are a gasp before she steps quickly towards the bed, her body enveloping mine as her lips find my forehead, my cheeks, my mouth. “Never. Oh, no Peeta. Not because you were just bait. I didn’t – no – I never meant it like that. I was going to get you out somehow anyways – I had to. But last night happened so quickly because of the plan and because I was afraid that he would hurt you more if you were still locked up. You being the bait was just a factor that had to be accounted for,” I listen to her voice with closed eyes, my mind trying to purge itself of the negative thoughts that have filled it since our conversation. When I open them again, she’s staring at me with gentle eyes, her fingertips resting on my cheek. “I could never lose you, Peeta. Never. You are never just bait to me, do you understand? It will never be like that for me.”

Sucking in a breath, I nod meekly and attempt a smile. Her words are a soothing balm on the open wound that seems to be my soul as of late. But I try to pull it together for her. Because she deserves the strong version of myself. The one that has something to offer in return.

I don’t say anything more.

We let the house rise all around us, the sounds of feet hitting the floor and the voices filling the hallways as Katniss kicks off her boots and lays with me. It seems to be about breakfast time downstairs when the expected knock echoes throughout the house and brings the people within it to a silent standstill.

Katniss meets my gaze and squeezes my hand. I press a kiss to her lips. And then we move.

It’s time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. Sorry this is late. Sorry the next one will likely be late. Sorry this is short. Real life is real rocky right now and I'm trying to kind of, get it under control. Unfortunately that means writing takes a back seat (also hopefully not quality). I'll try to keep up as best I can but I wanted to let you know so you don't think I'm just bailing on the story.


	16. Chapter 16

The knock rings out again before turning into a sharp and incessant banging. Pulling myself to the edge of the bed I hang my feet and look to where Katniss is yanking on her boots and throwing me a thick wool sweater from the closet.

“He’s looking for you,” She states surely, opening the door and poking her head into the hallway as I pull the sweater over my head. “Do you remember what you have to do?”

“Yes,” I nod briskly and lift myself to my feet while trying to ignore my body’s disgruntled protests. Shifting slightly, I regain my balance by gripping to the nightstand and taking a step forward. “Katniss,” I start, looking up to where she stands watching out the doorway of the room. She turns back to me slowly, a tense look on her face as I reach her with my careful steps. “Be careful today, promise me?”

It’s her eyes that give away her fear. Not the tight line of her lips or the firm set to her jaw – no, it’s in the way the corners of her eyes seem to soften just for a moment before her hand reaches towards me. Grabbing it with mine, I press a kiss to her palm and hold her tightly around the waist before the banging below turns into a chorus of frantic shouting.

“I’ll see you soon,” She whispers and ducks out the door, disappearing down the hallway and towards the staircase.

Doing as I was told, I close the thick wood door and return to the bed, pulling on the pair of boots that wait for me. I lace them up slowly, making sure to double tie the knots while my heart beats out of control in my chest and the shouting from downstairs fills the room.

The heavy boots on the stairs are next. I count three sets, maybe four, as they crest the top and begin to slam open doors.

“Well, what do we have _here_?” I listen as Thread crows into the first room – Mason’s room. I hear Prim answer weakly, her voice muffled through the walls. Thread laughs sickly before he echoes out, “It’ll be his time soon. Not many children survive the first year. Don’t go anywhere, now, I’ll be back to deal with you all soon.”

I have to grip the sheets of the bed not to strangle him now with my bare hands. _Nobody_ threatens Mason or Prim or _anyone_ I love. Taking a deep breath I bite the inside of my cheek with relief as I hear the boots move on from the room. It’s then that I hear the doors opening in the hallway.

One, two, three – Delly’s surprised scream.

“Ms. Cartwright,” I hear an unfamiliar voice shout. There’s a ruckus and a thump as Delly protests angrily, her voice rising as shoes drag on the floor.

“Don’t – get your hands _off of me_ you creep!” She yells. I hear the response of a slap before all I hear are the sounds of boots in the hall and something heavy dropping to the floor.

“Mellark, make it easy on us and come out willingly,” I hear Thread taunt, his thick rubber soles hitting the floor with every step. Two more doors. I listen as the wood cracks against the wall. I hear someone whistle. “Come out and face us like a man – face your deserved punishment for poaching against the Capitol.”

One door.

My door.

“Ah, there you are boy,” Thread smiles from the doorway. His hand flicks in the air and two Peacekeepers slip past him and into the room, grabbing me up by the arms and forcing me out the door. In the hallway I see Delly’s unconscious body pressed against the wall, a Peacekeeper standing over top of her and watching.

It’s then that I finally start to lose my cool.

“Delly?” I shout, panic lacing my tone when she doesn’t react to my voice. I feel an elbow in my side and flick my eyes over to see Darius frown at me. I scowl at him and he elbows me again before looking away. The confusion that fills me at his behaviour sends me reeling, my feet tripping against the hardwood floors as the Peacekeepers at my arms pull me forward.

“Come on Mellark,” Darius hisses and lifts at my arm holding me up.

“Let’s go, we’ve got a show to put on, boys,” Thread shouts from where he walks behind us and I watch as the Peacekeeper standing over Delly bends and tosses her over his shoulder and turns for the stairs. I feel my heart in my throat as we stumble past Mason’s room and I catch a glimpse of Prim standing with Rory next to Mason’s crib.

“Prim,” I whisper. She doesn’t hear me but I catch Rory’s eyes as he nods once towards me. I’m pulled down the stairs and into the foyer of the house where Katniss and Haymitch stand next to a fierce looking Gemma with her hand caught between her teeth. Her eyes follow Delly’s limp frame as it’s carried out the door and out of the corner of my eye I see Katniss grip Haymitch’s arm quickly.

“Alright you lot, like we discussed, don’t leave this house until I’m back or I’ll shoot you all dead on first look,” Thread threatens over my shoulder as I’m taken out the door. All I hear in return is the swift closing of the door and the quiet laugh of the man who’s going to kill me.

* * *

The town square was filled with on-lookers, all pushing for a sight of the broken down stocks that had held me not hours prior. I could hear as we approached their surprised gasps and shocked words.

“ _But how_?” They shouted, their confusion and anger at having been deprived my suffering only turning my stomach over in disgust.

I was almost thankful then when Thread moved ahead of us and called for the crowd’s attention. He was proud to be bringing us back to justice – to be escorting his escaped prisoners back to where they would rightfully face the punishment that they deserved after being broken out.

Though his words crawled under my skin, I remained hard, my lips tight and my jaw strong.

“Not long now,” Darius whispered beside me under his breath. His elbow bumped my ribs again and I frowned up at him. What was he planning?

“Bring the girl up here first!” Thread called out. When I looked back at the man he was standing atop the platform that contained our broken restraints, only now it featured a tall pole that reached high into the cloudy sky. Amongst the wind blew thick rope lashings that wove through a hole in the top.

“Delly!” I couldn’t stop the shout from escaping my lips, my fear bubbling up within me as the Peacekeeper carrying her delivered her to the platform. I felt a jab in my stomach from the other Peacekeeper restraining me, a hit to the gut that knocked the air from my lungs. Gasping, I stumbled on my feet into Darius who struggled to hold me upright.

I watched from afar as Delly was placed on the platform, the Peacekeeper grabbing the rope and slowly tying her hands into the restraints. My blood ran cold as I realized what was coming for us – what had been predicted but still hadn’t sunk in until now.

“You’ll get your chance to impose your own justice!” Thread shouted, his voice ringing out in the square to the excited pleasure of the crowd around him.

From my place next to Darius I could see a few sickly Merchants, their bodies haggard and worn, amongst a crowd from the mine on the off shift still in their coveralls.

“Ready, sir,” The Peacekeeper securing Delly said as he moved to his feet.

“Bring up Mellark,” Thread ordered next and my body was lurched forward, my arms held tightly as I was dragged onto the platform. At the base of the steps I let my feet hang onto the ground, my last resistance. Darius and the other Peacekeeper only grunted and let my feet hit every step on the way up. Finally I was placed next to the pole, my hands pulled behind me as the unfamiliar Peacekeeper held me up by the shoulders.

“Stay still,” Darius whispered into my ear, his hands pulling the rope tightly against my skin after removing my sweater. I ignored the stinging bite of the rope, instead focusing on the wood grain before me. I couldn’t look at Delly and the way her body was slightly suspended by the rope pulling her up and securing her to me. From this position I could see that they were restraining us like a lever – if one went down the other was pulled upwards. A unique and horrible torture.

“Now that we have you two back here I think it’s important to review your charges before we begin,” Thread says from across the platform as he pulls out a thin notebook. “From yesterday we have your charges of poaching which are at minimum a day in the stocks. But because I don’t particularly _like you_ Mellark, or Ms. Cartwright here, I tacked on the minimum for defrauding the Capitol – we were at 36 hours as your sentence.” He pauses and looks out to the crowd who hums with quiet excitement. I remain staring at the wood, desperate to block out the burn of everyone’s gaze on me.

I know it won’t be much longer. Not if the plan works.

“The thing is though, Mr. Mellark,” He says icily. “You and your little friends thought my intentions were too harsh. So let’s see what those charges add up to.” Flipping further in his notebook he pauses, reading down the list as a wide smile fills his face. “’ _For prisoner escape and/or attempts, the prisoner upon recapture is owing of a debt of 25 lashes with a standard, Capitol approved, whipping device_ ’.” Thread reads out and the crowd snickers in reaction. “It seems Mr. Mellark that your friends didn’t do you any favours. Let’s round it out to a solid 30 since you made me get up early.”

“Sir – the limit claims 25 lashes,” Darius voices. My head whips in his direction, my gaze narrowing.

“Are you really challenging me right now, boy? I will order the punishment as I see it, or would you be up for taking his last five?” Thread hisses. I watch Darius for a moment more as he stands still, not even his fingers moving, before a groan comes from the platform beside me.

“Gem?” Delly whimpers quietly, her right eye swollen shut as she slowly starts to move her feet around her. I tug my hands gently to get her attention and she winces as her arms rise up. “ _No_ , don’t,” She cries dejectedly and the sound breaks my heart.

“Delly, shh,” I attempt. But it’s too late – Thread notices she’s awake and grabs her up by the hair.

“Ah, the criminal is awake!” He shouts. The crowd seethes and her legs thrash as her eyes open in a panic.

“Peeta!” She screams, her gaze disoriented, the tension filling my body as I watch Thread push her forward against the pole.

“Just hold on Delly – just keep it together,” I whisper when her shoulder is pushed against the wood. I shift until my body is flush against her back, my arms straining at the awkward angle as I try to protect her from the man’s imposing figure. “Just stay still.” I command and listen as Thread laughs behind us.

“What the fuck are you doing, Mellark? Trying to cop a feel?” He snickers. I catch Darius’ eye on the other side of the platform and he scowls at the man over my shoulder. “Rooker – get me my Cat,” Thread commands and I vaguely hear the sound of boots moving across the wood panels and down the stairs.

A moment passes. I focus on Delly’s staggered breathing as her back presses against my chest and our arms and ropes intertwine above us.

When the boots return the crowd rumbles with excitement, their voices and chants filling the air around us as Thread snaps the whip with a sharp crack.

“Mellark – by your current position I’m taking it that you will present yourself for punishment first.”

“Yes,” I hiss through my teeth, gritting them as the cool wind runs across my exposed skin. I’m not sure if it’s the dampness in the air or the fear that’s coursing through my blood that makes the hairs on my arms stick up.

“Very well then,” He replies. The whip cracks out again and the crowd throbs against the platform, their hands pounding on the wood panelling with a raw echo.

“ _Peeta_ ,” Delly whines. I clench my eyes shut, my body tensing as I prepare for the first hit.

“It’ll be alright,” I murmur as my head tucks into her shoulder. She only shudders and pushes against the pole harder.

Sucking in a breath, I hold it, prepared, ready, for the feel of the leather on my flesh.

But it never comes. The harsh crack and the slick sound of flesh ripping surrounds me but it has nothing to do with a whip. I spin, my gaze landing on Thread’s crumbling body, an arrow sticking out of his chest where his hands helplessly grab at it.

The screams come next. A few shouts from the crowd before someone howls in desperate agony. I watch helplessly, my arms straining at the rope as the blood begins to seep out from Thread’s chest and stains the platform. Through the madness of the first moment I hear another whistling sound before my arms go slack and Delly stumbles back into me.

“Come on – come on!” Darius’ voice fills my ears before arms pull me up into a standing position and lurch me forward. I glance back at the pole one last time to see another arrow stuck through where the rope was threaded not moments before. “Get out of here!” Darius hisses and I’m off, my feet stumbling down from the platform and tripping up on the mud below. I fall in my haste, my body crashing down with a heavy thump.

More arms find me. Arms clad in blue coveralls, dark coal dust coating the seams. They lift me up and pull me through the mud. Peering through the dirt coating my eyes I see my fellow miner’s – men who I’ve never met before or only seen in passing – leading me out of the town square and away from the gore behind me.

Somewhere along the way, I see Delly being lead off in another direction, her blonde hair disappearing behind a group of people. I want to follow her, to ensure that she’s safe, but I know the plan is to separate us – to get us as far away from the Peacekeepers and district authorities as possible.

It isn’t long before we reach the fence line and my jaw drops at the sight before me. Where once the fence stood with its barbed wire and unreliable hum of electricity there was now only the wreckage of a Capitol piece of equipment. The ground before me has been torn up, the wires that strung the posts together all cut and curled in upon themselves. All around me starved and weakened people are clipping at the wire with whatever they have available – their hands quickly turning the fence into scrap metal.

“Peeta!” I hear Katniss yell from behind me. I whip around at my name and see her sprinting towards me, her face flush as she carries her bow over her shoulder. We collide into each other without a moment’s hesitation, her body wrapping around mine as I stagger in an attempt to remain standing. “We need to go now. I can’t think about this – we need to go!”

I wrap her hand tightly in mine and pull her towards the edge of the trees where I know they’ve placed our bags of clothes and supplies. Warm outfits, basic tools, a pot and canteens for water.

“Are you sure about this?” I ask fervently, my hands grasping at her shoulders and forcing her to look at me head on. I know that this won’t be easy – I’m weak and hardly capable of establishing a safe retreat in the woods – I won’t be any help until I’m back on my feet. And what’s worse – the only thing that’s possibly worse than stealing out into the forest – is that Mason won’t be with us.

That was the plan. Kill Thread. Instill chaos. Scatter until the dust settles.

Katniss had said it so simply when she’d first explained it. I would be used as a distraction to keep the most Peacekeepers occupied until the people could rally and take down the fence. Katniss would kill Thread, set us free and we’d meet at the trees – she’d described this so quickly and efficiently that I’d had to ignore the shiver it sent down my spine. Afterwards, after we were set free, Delly would go to a safe location with Gemma. Prim and Haymitch, and now Rory, would join Hazelle outside of the District. Mason would go with them. Katniss and I would take to the forest. Mason would no longer be with us – where we would be heading into the trees he would be on the train crossing the District lines. Katniss and I would be without Mason.

The thought had been almost unbearable to me and I’d asked her solemnly how long we would be gone.

“I can’t lose you both,” Katniss had whispered in reply, breaking my thoughts and reaching for my hand abruptly. “If we stay, if we go with him he’ll be in more danger. Haymitch says with this plan we’ll have started a rebellion that we can’t stop. I can’t risk him being here with us. He needs to go with Prim. They need to be safe.”

I’d nodded though my stomach had coiled nervously.

“Rory will take care of him. He’ll do it for Gale. And Prim will do it for me.”

Facing her now as we stand amongst the trees I see the hesitation in her eyes, the tension that rests in her shoulders building under my hands. She isn’t okay with this and neither am I – but what choice do we have?

“They’re already gone,” She murmurs and pulls away before grasping her backpack and heading deeper into the trees.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: A little shorter but I wanted to get this out before my hell week went down. Trust me, soon I'll be far to poor to do anything so maybe I'll get some real writing done. On a related note, this story is almost over. I thought I'd give you a warning just in case. And lastly, thanks so incredibly much to the ridiculous Wildharp for pointing out that even though I'm a terrible writer I'm still half-decent at having that shiny veneer coating of special. Okay maybe it was nothing like that but he sure was a great thought sifter for me on this chapter.


	17. Chapter 17

Our refuge in the forest is a derelict cabin on the edge of a small lake. Katniss had brought us here the day we’d left the village. It had once been her and Gale’s escape – where they’d come to get away from the mines and the life in town. Gale had been meaning to turn it into their home – he’d planned to add on another room, to install a cook stove and repair the roof, from what I remember of our conversations.

But none of it had happened. The building had sat empty and alone throughout the winter. Its log walls and shoddy roof had needed fixing immediately upon our arrival if we were going to stay dry and out of the rain. I’d told Katniss it wasn’t necessary – that it could be done in the daylight when the sun was out – but she hadn’t listened. I watched helplessly from my place on the ground as she scurried onto the roof and began aligning new leaves and brush over the holes as the rain came down in droves. The only time I left my spot was to go inside and get the fire burning for when she was finished.

She stayed up there for a long time. Longer than I think she needed to.

“Katniss, come down. Let’s sleep,” I shouted for the third time when I caught her staring off into the trees absently. I felt helpless to stem the sadness building within her. I could see it in her eyes and the way she remained almost silent apart from asking for tools off the ground. “Katniss,” I pleaded again. When she looked down this time I caught her nod and watched as she shimmied back to the ground.

Following her into the shabby building and out of the rain I was careful to give her space. When I closed the door with a quiet click I caught her staring at the fire as the water dripped from her clothes.

“Can I –“ I started, stepping forward and letting my hands hover over her shoulders. Her only reply was a brisk nod. Proceeding carefully, I turned and grabbed the bag of clothes, sifting through for something warm. Coming across a heavy knit sweater and a pair of thick wool trousers I set them on the floor next to the fire to warm up. Taking a quick moment I changed into my own dry clothes before turning back to her.

My hands first found her shoulders, my fingers squeezing gently in hopes to convey my concern for her. When she didn’t protest I moved to making quick work at getting her wet clothes off, replacing them with the dry set while trying to avoid the feelings that her naked body spurred in me. Afterwards my fingers found her disheveled braid and I slowly slipped off the binding at the bottom. Guiding her to the floor next to the fire I worked my hands along her scalp, softly running them along her spine. When she still curled into herself, her knees clutched to her chest, I rebraided her hair and pulled myself flush against her back.

We sat there watching the fire, our bodies slowly warming against the radiating heat as we listened to the sounds of the rain atop the roof overhead.

* * *

The first few days at the cabin are very much like our mood. Filled with rain, gloom and an ache that echoes in our bones, each day we wake up, our bodies pressed together as though we’re almost a single entity. Katniss pulls away first, always, and prepares herself for her morning hunt. While she’s gone I take the time to do simple tasks like prepare bowls and make easy repairs to the cabin.

On some days when I’m feeling particularly energetic I collect firewood from the surrounding area. It’s on one of these days, when I’m off just a little further in than normal, that Katniss’ scream is what has me discarding my kindling and rushing back to her side. 

“Katniss!” I shout, my voice raw from disuse. We don’t talk much out here – we don’t have words really. She rounds on me from where she stands, her arms bloody and her face filled with agony. “Katniss! Oh jesus, _Katniss_ ,” Panic laces my tone as I stumble towards her on the uneven ground. We crash into each other, our bodies wrapping tightly together before I push her back and pull out her arms to examine them.

My heart is in my throat as my fingers slide across her slick skin. I’m so consumed in my frantic searching that I barely notice her speaking above me.

“Peet – Peeta, where were –“ Clearing her throat gets my attention and I flick my eyes towards hers, my hands shaking. “Where _were you_?” She asks meekly. My heart stutters and it’s then I take in the sight of her kills surrounding us.

“Are you hurt?” I ask aloud, ignoring her question as I bring my soiled hand to her cheek. A streak of blood traces her cheekbone as she shakes her head.

“I was so worried – you weren’t here and I thought –“ Her voice shakes and I see the fear I’d caused her replaying in her mind.

“I’m sorry. I went to find wood. I didn’t mean to worry you.” She nods slightly at my words and when I think she’s about to step back, to put the silent distance up between us again, I can’t help but be surprised when she does the complete opposite and wraps me tightly in her arms.

We stand there together for a long moment, our bodies fitting together and clinging as though we can never let go. In my moment of weakness I give in and press my lips to her temple, my nose borrowing into the loose hair from her braid.

She doesn’t pull back.

Without warning, her hands slide up until they’re cradling my head, forcing me to look at her and see the small sad smile on her lips.

“I don’t know what I’d do,” She whispers hoarsely. I nod, for once no words coming to my aid. But she doesn’t need them. Not when she moves her lips to mine and we dissolve into a rush of movement. The simple kiss quickly ignites a fire in my belly – one that encourages my hands to fall to her hips and pull her closer to me. I take the kiss deeper, my tongue brushing her lips and begging for entry.

The moment seems to last forever before I’m stepping back and gasping for air. I still don’t let go of her arms as I use her to anchor me to the ground. I know this is too much for right now – that this is probably her reacting to the momentary stress.

I can’t take advantage. It’s not right. I squeeze her bloodied wrist lightly instead and smile.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” 

* * *

After the scare it seems as though Katniss’ nights take on a life of their own. It starts with just whimpers in her sleep, small movements that let me know that she’s dreaming and that I’ll need to wake her up soon. But then the whimpers turn into words. Then the words turn into sentences. And before I know it I’m living her nightmares with her – experiencing her feelings of loss right along with her.

When she first mentions Mason in her sleep I’ve already been awake for a while watching the fire. Sometimes her words seem to draw her out of her own dreams and she quickly falls back to sleep.

It doesn’t happen tonight though.

As the minutes drag on I listen to the quiet words that she mumbles. I hate to wake her – to pull her from the sleep she so desperately needs – but it’s the way her voice cracks on ‘Mason’ that forms a lump in my throat.

Reaching forward to stir her awake I hear her fears. Somewhere in her dream Prim and Mason are not safe and Katniss can do nothing but watch. Feeling the fear of that scenario myself I pull Katniss into my embrace and talk until she seems to come back to me.

“It’s not real,” I assure her when she blinks her eyes towards me.

“I know – I just can’t help but think –“

“No. It’s not happening. Mason is safe with Prim and Rory and even with Haymitch. We have to believe that.” I can’t let her doubt it. If she doubts it then surely I will give in as well and then this separation, this hiding, will all be for nothing as we live only to have our minds consume us alive.

* * *

It happened for the first time about a week into arriving. Sitting quietly by the fire, Katniss is the first to stiffen, her hunter senses hearing the shouts echoing through the trees before I can recognize what they are. Without a moment to spare she tosses a bucket of water over the fire and adds a pot over top to snuff it out quickly.

“Do you hear that?” She whispers frantically when I still make no move.

“Hear what?” I’m confused because I haven’t heard a thing.

“People. There’s people.”

I’m on my feet in the next second, stuffing whatever I can into a pack as Katniss gathers all her gear and snare equipment. When everything is collected that we can manage Katniss pulls me through the door and into the woods at a quick pace. We scale a small rock face with little effort and I freeze as Katniss holds up her hand. I try to contain my breathing as she scowls at the trees before us.

Far off in the distance, I’m the first to see the small crop of men in plainclothes who walk between the trees. They look familiar, but not in a way that I could place them as Peacekeepers or other District citizens.

We watch from our perch as they trek through the trees, every so often calling to one another and releasing tiny echoes of our names.

We know they’re here for us, we just don’t know _why_ they’re here for us.

It isn’t the first or the last time that this scenario will happen to us. Every so often people will unexpectedly arrive amongst the trees. When we’re alone, we meet at the rock. When we’re together we change locations just to be safe.

The men who search for us never seem to venture too close to our well hidden cabin and I pray that it stays that way.

* * *

It’s sunny. The sky is bright overhead as I watch Katniss slip through the water of the lake before me. I’d opted to stay on shore, still shaky about my fear of swimming. It’s been a month since the night Thread was killed. A month of a slowly building comfort as we both learned to rely on each other out here in the wild.

Change was, for the first time in a long time, finally working in our favour. Katniss’ hunting and scavenging was bringing in enough food for us both – so much food in fact that I was finally regaining some of the muscle mass I’d lost since the drought began. We’d even come so far as to have the cabin almost fully repaired. Though sometimes the stove still stuttered and the roof still leaked on those rare rainy days, we were slowly crawling out from the disadvantage that we’d come from.

“Peeta!” Katniss calls from the water, her still too-thin frame half exposed in the afternoon sun. “Are you ever going to come for a swim?”

It was tempting, I have to admit. Not only because I was getting tired of the cold tin baths I took behind the cabin, but also because the light shining off of her wet skin made me long to join her.

“Please?” She called.

Fuck it.

Getting up from my perch I strip down to my shorts, abandoning my dry clothes to the dirt ground and walking to the edge of the lake with a false passivity.

“So – uh, what do I do, exactly?” I ask quietly. I’m only met with a wicked grin before Katniss launches herself towards me and pulls me into the water with her. We’re a mess of flailing arms and tangled limbs as we crash into the shallow depths. I flounder helplessly about before realizing that I can still touch the murky bottom below.

It’s then that I take advantage of this knowledge and silence Katniss’ cackle of laughter with my lips. The kiss is long and urgent, our hands running and exploring each other’s bodies like we hadn’t done since before everything with Thread. It is amazing. I don’t have the words.

“Let’s go back to the cabin,” Katniss murmurs in between slow pecks that scale my jaw. My body hums at her words, following dazedly as she leads me back ashore. Leaving our clothes behind, Katniss leads me into the building and shuts the door behind us. I don’t even get a chance to turn around before her now-naked body is pressing up flush against my back.

“Please don’t say no,” She whispers into my ear as her nails scrape across my ribs.

I couldn’t have said no if I tried.

Our light afternoon by the lake quickly dissolves into hurried touches and frantic breaths. Pulling off my wet shorts Katniss’ hand wraps around my length with a sure grip and works me slowly. When my legs begin to shake and I feel like I’m about to topple over, she leads me back to our wooden pallet in the corner. I gasp when her body joins mine, her legs straddling my hips while her center presses hot and wet against my stomach.

“Katniss, I – I...” The words jam in my mouth as her wet hair hangs over her shoulder and drips onto my chest. She smiles down at me, her eyes searching mine for an answer that I don’t know if I have. I feel her hands run along my neck and lower to my shoulders as she watches me. Every movement sends a burst of heat through my body and pushes me more quickly towards the edge I can no longer ignore.  “Shit, Katniss, I – “

The words die in my throat as her mouth finds mine and her body rocks over me. I feel her slick heat press back against my length and I moan loudly, my tongue pushing against the roof of her mouth as my hands fist in her hair. She squeaks in return and shifts until she’s sliding against me, her body moving carefully.

It’s when I almost slip inside of her, when I catch on her outer lips, that I pull back from her hypnotic kiss and hold her face carefully in mine.

“Tell me you want this. I’ve loved you for so long – for so much – but I need to know that this is – “ I whisper frantically, my breathing heavy in the heat of the cabin before she places her palm over my mouth.

“Stop asking me that. The answer is yes. Yes.” I nod into the press of her calloused palm, understanding. When she still doesn’t remove her hand though and her body returns to its slow rocking I playfully let my tongue pass over her palm. She grins wildly and sinks backwards until her hand slips between us and positions me at her entrance.  “Just, Peeta,” She pauses and sucks in a breath as she sinks down on me with a hiss. “Just be careful with me, okay?”

Her words rip through me and reverberate off my bones. I know in this moment that this is right. But I also know that we still have a long way to go. Neither of us is ready for what’s next or what could happen. We’re still too wounded from our loss, too hollow from what’s missing.

So after a few moments, when we both grow out of breath, I take care to move slowly as I lay her down before me. Settling with her back to my front I fill her once again and slip my hand down to the bud between her folds. I let her writhe against me, her body pushing back into mine and trying desperately to be closer with every careful thrust.

When I feel her body go taunt and her muscles clench around me I slip out and let my release stain the floor.

I’m not a fool. I know enough to know that what I’ve done has been a risk. But Katniss knows as well and together we both made the choice. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I pull her flush to my body and lay gentle kisses along her neck, revelling in the taste and smell of her.

We lay there together for a long while, no words being spoken only small touches exchanged. It’s only when the sun begins to dip lower in the sky that Katniss finally shifts until she’s looking down at me from the arm she leans on.

“I guess we should eat something,” She murmurs in the soft light. I trace my finger along her collarbone and smile up at her.

“I see something I’d like to eat,” I tease. She releases a snort of laughter, her eyes lighting up at the idea before she brings her lips to mine.

We don’t start eating until sometime after dark.

* * *

It’s been a year since Gale’s death. Our day is quiet, words only being exchanged when necessary. Katniss spends half of her day wandering the forest alone and I try to promise myself that I’ll only start to worry if she doesn’t return by dark. I know that even though I promise myself this, I’ll still be concerned – how could I not be?

Instead of focusing on it though, I spend my own time keeping busy around the cabin. I focus namely on preparing our food rations for winter storage and creating a cold cellar-type dig out along the cabin’s rear. I don’t know how long Katniss intends to stay here – whether she thinks we could and should try to last the winter I’m not sure. All I know is that with every waking moment that I’m able to move I’m going to be preparing for our next stage. Just in case. Just so that we never again feel the hunger pains that only now are being minimized in my memory.

I’m just finishing up layering the maple in the dig out when Katniss returns, surprising me earlier than I expected. For a while she just stands there, her arms crossed over her chest as she watches me. When I finish she joins me inside the cabin and wanders over until she’s sitting on the wood pallet, observing me starting dinner.

I don’t force her to speak although I so desperately want to know what she’s thinking today.

When dinner is ready, a simple soup, I hand her a bowl and join her on the pallet to eat in silence. We continue on that way long into the night, our bodies aligning with each other’s and curling in for warmth against the growing evening cold.

I’m somewhere in between the land of sleep and consciousness when she pulls away and sits up, her bare back exposed and her spine poking against her skin.

“What is it, Katniss?” I ask gently, my hand next to her thigh on the pallet. She mumbles, under her breath as though she doesn’t want me to hear. But I need to hear. I need to hear her today. “Katniss?” I question and this time move forward and press my chest to her back while wrapping my arms around her middle. The comfort is more for me, but I hope she finds some solace in it as well.

Another moment passes. I think that perhaps she’s going to continue her silence so I relax against her and rest my chin on her shoulder.

That’s why I’m surprised then when she speaks. When her words are more anxiety-inducing than I could have imagined for more reasons than one. All I can do is bite my tongue and nod when she tells me:

“We need to go find our son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to say that every single one of you have been absolutely amazing regarding me taking some time to deal with personal stuff. All of your kind words, all of your reviews and follows and favourites, have been amazing reminders of how nice people can be. I'm so glad you guys exist because this week would have been horrendous without the little upbeat notes I've received and while I know I have another patch of hard shit ahead of me, it's comforting to know nice people still exist. So thank you! And if you want, come join the blips and shenanigans on tumblr, lollercakesff


	18. Chapter 18

We don’t even wait until dawn to start packing. Katniss can’t seem to sleep and although we both know it’s useless to venture out in the dark, she still paces the cabin endlessly until I’m finally able to pull her back down under our last unpacked blanket.

“Hey,” I whisper when she’s tucked against my chest. She curls in tighter, her arms wrapping strongly around my waist and pulling me closer. “We’ll find them – it won’t be that hard.”

I try to reassure her but inside I’m clawing at any shred of information I have that could make this process simpler. I know that finding them won’t be easy – Prim had mentioned likely going to find Hazelle but only if the passage way had been clear. If that hadn’t worked out, she’d suggested travelling to District 4 to be with their mother. Surely they would be in one of those locations.

I couldn’t think about it in any other way or I’d be just as anxious as Katniss.

We needed to find our son.

 _Our_ son.

Her words had nearly stopped the beating of my heart when she’d said them not so long ago. My chest had clenched painfully, the acceptance of being welcomed into her family nearly taking over the stress bubbling in my stomach. Our son. Our son.

Mason was my son _too_. Katniss considered me a father.

“How do you know we can even get back into the District, Peeta? What if they’ve put up the fence back up? What if we can’t get to the train station to even get out of there?” She whispers furiously, pulling me out of my ruminations. I feel her body tense under mine as she stutters, “What if they never got out of the District?”

“Stop, Katniss, please,” I reply tightly, my arms clenching around her. I don’t want to think about it. “We need to stay positive about this. Prim had Haymitch _and_ Rory to get them out of the District. They got out – they had to.”

They had to because I honestly can’t deal with the idea that _my son_ is missing. Or worse.

“I can’t wait any longer!” Katniss cries out after a moment of tense struggling. Her arms lash out and she pushes back and out of my grip. I scramble up after her, my hands grabbing her about the waist when she lunges for the door.

I know the desperation she’s feeling. I know how the weight of Gale’s death and Mason’s separation is weighing her down. But I don’t know how to help her escape from under these fears – the way she pushes at me and thrashes around remind me of just how difficult this is. I almost can’t bear to see her like this – to compound her frantic acts onto my own fears.

“Katniss, _please_ ,” I moan, desperate for her to stop trying to push me away. She wants to go – she wants to go _now_ – but we can’t. “We need to wait until light. It’s only a few more hours. You can wait until light, I promise,” I reassure and then she stops, her body going limp against mine as the tears begin to fall.

In all honesty, I’ve been waiting all day for this. Maybe all week. I knew the anniversary of Gale’s death would be hard. I’d known it wasn’t going to go unnoticed. The addition of her need for Mason, though almost unexpected, has nearly brought me to my knees as well. I miss him just as much, if not more, as terrible as that sounds. But I know we get nowhere exhausting our energy like this.

I don’t hold it against her. Instead I pull her against my body and steer us back towards the bed where I lay us down. When she asks me to make her forget, I try with every ounce of my being. The moments seem to pass in a blissful haze as we lose ourselves in each other’s arms. I still feel a tinge of remorse when she comes apart against my hand, her body writhing beside me and sounds of mewling sprouting from her lips.

Afterwards, as it remains dark, I let her sleep tucked against me in hopes that she’ll draw some form of rest and comfort. I try to get some sleep too, if only to find refuge from my warring thoughts.

* * *

Katniss is restless, tossing and turning until the first crack of light breaks through the sky. When we can see the ground, she doesn’t hesitate before grabbing her bag and pulling me out of the cabin. It’s not that I’m resistant to this – it’s just that I’m nervous about what we’ll find, where we’ll go, what’s ahead of us.

And for all those reasons and more, I drag my feet until we’re out the cabin door.

But all of that dragging stops once we breach the line of trees and disappear within them. Katniss takes the lead, her pace quick and her steps more sure than mine. When she needs to stop though to wait for my lumbering gait to catch up, she holds her emotions in check, often offering water as I reach her.

I apologize profusely for this.

She will hear none of it.

By the time we reach the edge of the District it is already reaching dusk with the ever waning days. We move slowly together upon the edge of the trees watching the fenceless space before us with a quiet anxiety.

“We need to get to the train station,” Katniss mutters after a while of quiet stalking.

“Do you want to go through or around?” I reply. She merely shrugs and continues to walk ahead. “We could wait until dark and cross through town?” I suggest.

“It might be too risky. We don’t know what’s in there now – maybe they’ve increased the Peacekeepers? Maybe there are traps or higher security now?” I nod and concede to her rationale. “Let’s go around the tree line until we get a good look. It might mean having to run for a train in the morning at the last minute, if we can get close enough.”

“How do we know which train to get on?” I wonder aloud as we hike. Katniss shrugs before me and hums.

“We just get on and get out, I guess. Change off at another District?” She suggests and I nod despite her not being able to see me from where she walks ahead.

We continue on in relative quiet, the only sound escaping us is the crunching of my boots on the forest floor and my heavy breaths that tell of a still recovering body. When finally dark is fully set in, Katniss leads us to the very edge of the forest and along the District boundaries by moonlight.

“Let’s rest here.” She catches me off guard when she grabs my wrist as I’m about to pass her. Turning, I see where she points up in the distance.

The train station. Flooded with lights. And people. Guards, maybe.

I freeze, my body thrumming with energy as I put my arm out to block Katniss from advancing any further forward.

“Peeta,” She hisses. I can feel her pull on my collar but my body is rigid to her touch.

“We’re never going to get out of here, Katniss,” I murmur. She gives another yank on my shoulder and I stumble back with her into the trees, disappearing from the line of sight of any of the guards patrolling the area. I feel like I’m vibrating – my body buzzing as my mind whirls to try to find alternatives to getting out of the District. Getting to Prim and Rory and Haymitch. Getting to Mason.

I’m so caught up in the fear and the brainstorming options that I don’t notice Katniss pulling me down to the ground until I’m already there and she’s wrapping me up in her arms. She’s got me seated in the dirt, my lower back against a log that she’s perched on as she leans her chin against my shoulder and whispers into my ear.

It’s these whispers that slowly bring me back around and I turn to her, my lips so close I can feel the heat of her breath against me.

“It’s okay,” She assures, her eyes meeting mine as her arms grip tightly. I nod, starting to relax into her embrace as the fear of not finding my son seems to dissipate with her reassurance.

After a while, our bodies begin to slouch as the exhaustion creeps into us. Lying down, we use our packs for pillows and huddle close for warmth.

“What are you thinking?” She asks after a prolonged silence.

“How to get around the guards,” I reply quietly. She nods knowingly and shifts until our bodies are completely flush.

“We’ll just have to... To run for it. If we’re lucky they won’t see us coming and we can get on a car and be gone before they even notice us.”

“Or we could try to board like passengers?” I counter offer the best plan I could come up with. It’d be perfect. We could stand on the platform, pretend to be normal and hope that they don’t recognize us. It’s been months, hasn’t it? Maybe they won’t place us until it’s too late. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

“That seems really risky – don’t you think?” I nod and let my handle settle under her shirt and against the skin of her back. I need her closeness tonight. Just in case.

“It is. But it might be dumb enough to work.” I try.

“Tomorrow. We’ll see what it’s like tomorrow and then – then we decide. Let’s get some sleep now.” She whispers and I revel in the feel of her head tucked against my chest and the slow breaths that escape her.

Surprisingly, despite the way my thoughts spin, I fall asleep quickly in the shared warmth of our bodies on the forest floor.

* * *

“This is dangerous, Peeta,” She reminds me again as I tuck her braid up into the wool cap we’ve pulled from my pack.

“It’s going to work,” I insist, stepping back and taking in the sight of her in my too big shirt with a string wrapped around the waist. It clinches in tightly making her look more frumpy and unrecognizable than I had ever imagined.

It works. She doesn’t look quite like the Katniss I’ve admired for years.

“What are we going to do with you, then?” We’ve moved deeper into the forest now that the sun has risen above the horizon. Slowly, we bide our time until the scheduled train arrival. At least, what we hope is the approximate time – the train schedule hasn’t changed in years but that doesn’t mean we can depend on it. We can’t afford to depend on anything right now.

“You’re going to use these on me.” My hands hold out a pair of dull medical scissors, ones that I’d found tucked away in one of the corners of the cabin from some previous usage. When I’d packed them I figured maybe they’d come in handy should we need to mend anything but now they seemed like the only tool that could help me disguise myself.

The best way to hide me in plain sight was to cut my increasingly lengthy blonde mop of hair. If anything, the people who remained in District 12 would recognize a Merchant blonde like me in no time. Especially since most of those with blonde hair didn’t make it through the drought. My hair made me stand out amongst the crowd. It had to go.  

I watched Katniss intently as she slowly took the scissors in her hand and stared at the rusty metal.

“You want me to do _what_?” She gasped, her eyes whipping towards mine. Carefully I lifted her free hand until it tangled in my hair.

“Cut it. As close as you can.”

“What? Peeta! This is stupid! Let’s just run for the train like we’d planned!” Katniss hissed, her arms crossing her chest angrily. I shook my head and pulled her hands loose.

“No. You know I’d never catch up with a train. I’m not as fast as you. I’d never make it. This is the only way for me.” I replied hastily. She shook her head again and held out the scissors to me. I cocked an eyebrow at her and then took them to my own curls. “Fine.”

The first lock of hair that fell to the ground almost made me frown but I shrugged it off. It was just hair. After the third cut, Katniss released the lip she’d been biting in a long huff and took the scissors from me.

“If we have to do this,” She relented and made quick work of sheering the long coils of hair from my head. In no time I stood up and ran my hand lightly against my cropped head of hair. “You look ridiculous,” She noted and stuffed the scissors away in her pack. She couldn’t meet my eye without a grin and I took that as a good sign. Anything to make her smile right now was worth it. “We should go. It shouldn’t be long now.”

Together we pulled our packs on and trekked towards the station, joining in with the small crowd of folks who were hopefully waiting for the train. As soon as our feet hit the platform, I felt Katniss’ hand squeeze tightly in mine. Looking down I caught sight of the tight scowl on her face and the fear that made her pulse point in her neck throb heavily.

I could do nothing to alleviate her stress but to squeeze her hand back and calmly run my thumb along the back of her hand.

Together we stood at the edge of the platform, our backs towards the growing crowd and our bodies turned towards the direction that the train would likely come from. To anyone near us we likely looked like eager passengers, two people simply excited to board.

At least, that’s how we hoped we looked. We didn’t think it wise to ask.

It was barely 20 minutes before we heard the approaching whistle in the distance. The train’s arrival couldn’t come any sooner. Our palms began to sweat as the bulkhead came into view, its thick plume of smoke rising up from the front and trailing through the bright sky behind it. We stepped back on the platform as it pulled into the station, our arms looping together so as not to get separated in the push and pull of the people boarding.

Ten minutes passed before passengers were loaded. While Katniss itched to get on first, I pulled us up short and nodded her gaze towards where the ticket master was collecting paper stubs. I watched as her eyes widened upon the sight and she pulled us back another step. I’d expected to be able to board without tickets and to simply disappear inside – apparently that wasn’t how this worked.

“What do we do?” Turning towards her I tucked my head against her ear and whispered frantically – to the outside world looked like a close goodbye embrace.  

“We run for it.” She hissed in return and I knew I had no other choice at this point. We had to get on that train. We had to get out of this District.

We had to get our son back.

“Okay,” I agreed and we pulled away, heading towards the exit with Katniss taking the lead.

We slipped out of the station without any issues, our feet carrying us around the building until we were able to sneak along the underside of the platform. Before us the caboose of the train loomed large and intimidating, its painted metal shining in the late morning light. Our plan was to scale where the cars joined and duck into one of the passenger quarters through the emergency doors. If we could get on the train, to the door, before it was at a high speed, we’d be set.

“On the second whistle, you get on first,” Katniss whispered.

“What! No. I’m not leaving you behind!” I tried to restrain the fear and anger that coursed through me at her suggestion.

“You won’t be. I’ll be right behind you, I promise,” She insists. I stare at her, terrified that she won’t make it, as the first whistle rings out.

“Just – just in case. I love –“ Her lips quickly cover mine, swallowing my words.

“Don’t – we’re going to get him,” She pulls back from the kiss and brushes my cheek with her palm. “Let’s go.”

My heart begins to race as we scoot towards the train. The footsteps against the wood of the platform are nearly non-existent except for the heavy boot footfalls that warned of the people we’d seen last night.

The second whistle rang out and Katniss’ hand found my shoulder and pressed until I slipped along the tracks and up to where the cars joined. She wasn’t far behind, her body slipping under the platform and following mine. Pulling myself up on the ladder of the car I felt the train start to shift forward.

“Come on,” I mumble mostly to myself, holding my hand out and beckoning Katniss to pick up the pace. She wasn’t far away now.

“Hey!” A voice cuts through the air around us, startling me and pulling Katniss up short for just a moment.

The moment is too long. The train picks up speed and soon I’m being moved farther away as she turns and starts to jog towards me.

“Katniss!” I shout over the roar of the train. I watch as she stumbles on a loose board just as the man closes in on her. She shakes him off with an elbow to the stomach and sprints towards the rear of the train. I scramble to climb up another notch as we leave the station fully, attempting to gain a better grip. My hands slip on the bars and I shift to get a better hold, my attention turned away from Katniss for just a moment.

When I’m finally able to catch sight of the scene behind me she’s still too far from the train, its speed picking up as more men join in the pursuit behind her.

“Get off the train! Get off the train!” My hands slip on the rails, my skin sweaty against the metal as I try to hold on. Somewhere in the distance someone else is yelling for me to get off but I’m not sure if it’s Katniss or one of the guards we just escaped past. I can’t tell because as the train picks up speed, so does the wind in my ears and the deafening roar of the engine up ahead.

My mind is screaming at me through the noise. I can’t stop my panicked thoughts. She didn’t make it. She didn’t make it.

“Peeta!” I hear the scream snap through all of the noise filling my brain and I slip, my body holding on by one hand as I grapple to get a grip. I slip a moment more before catching and turning my head out of the speeding wind and towards the end of the car. Off in the distance just past the edge of the platform I can make out the ever-shrinking sight of a woman running towards me.

Of Katniss still near the station. Disappearing behind me while tall looming figures come up behind her.

“Oh,” I murmur to myself as the sight finally clicks into place. I can’t leave without her. That’s not how this works. My hands falter again and I don’t bother to consider what will happen.

Instead I just let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I got good news today but I'm still trying to digest it. I just wanted to share a thank you once again with Wildharp who was a fantastic soundboard again on this chapter and my uncertainty about it. Thanks again to all of you who read it, it means a lot.


	19. Chapter 19

My first thought is that there’s something digging into my rib. A hard ball of something that’s pressing into my back and aching through to my chest. Only when I shift, the ball moves with me.

No, the entire thing surrounding me moves with me.

Instantly my mind recalls where I last was. On the side of a train. Floating through the air. A blank space.

I jerk upwards but feel something heavy press against my chest as my eyes snap open quickly. Gasping for air, my eyes dart around the dark room frantically, lungs heaving with the adrenaline coursing through me.

“Katniss,” I grunt, air escaping my lips in a whoosh.

The something from before shifts again and then there’s a small garble, recognizable but so fuzzy in my mind’s eye that I can’t quite pinpoint the sound.

The darkness is almost overwhelming until my eyes seem to come into focus and I feel the warm breath on my neck. Looking down, I begin to see the outline of thick dark hair spread out across a pillow. Pale olive skin in the dark moonlight hidden only by a bundle of cloth and blankets that cover us. The ball is a fist. Katniss’ fist.

“ _Katniss_ ,” I whisper again, relief flooding me, forcing me to reach out my aching arm across my body until my fingers brush against her temple. In her sleep she shifts towards me and the small bundle cradled in her arms squirms. The small creaking cry that breaks under the pressure of our close proximity startles her into disoriented wakefulness.

“Peeta!” She jolts, sitting up quickly and taking the blankets with her.

Oh. _Oh_.

My mind clicks it into place and it all makes sense no matter how much I don’t believe it. Tears prick my eyes and my breath gets stuck in my lungs as I shift until I’m sitting up. The dizziness almost overtakes me in that moment but I fight it as I stare at her in the dark.

“Is... Is that –“ I start, words cracking as they pass my lips. I want to believe it. I want it to be real. I swear I’m dreaming but it all seems so clear. It has to be real. It has to be -

“Yes,” She gasps heavily, the word escaping in a huff. “Yes, Peeta, yes.” She doesn’t stop nodding and in the minimal light I think I can almost see the reflection of her own tears in her eyes. My head and my heart spin at the same time but I ignore the queasiness and instead follow my instinct and gather them both tightly in my arms.

“My Katniss. My _Mason_ ,” I murmur reverently. Wet lips meet mine as Katniss’ arm wraps tightly around my back, her hand fisting in my shirt. The baby between us barks out a cry that startles us both into shuddering laughs, our relief and our happiness nearly bursting out of us as we hold our son in our arms.

“He’s safe,” Katniss starts, her words tucked against my ear. I nod into her shoulder before pulling back and staring down at my Little Bit with his dark hair and olive skin. After a long moment, when I look back up at Katniss’ waiting gaze, I grin sheepishly.

“May I?”

I’m not the only one smiling so hard my cheeks must hurt when she directs me to lie back down before shifting Mason between us. We lay together like that for hours, Mason tucked between us as he sleeps fitfully.

When finally light begins to peak through the smothering darkness, we both know that soon Mason will begin his hungry cries and will not rest until he eats.

What will we feed him?

How did we get here?

All the questions that I’d stomped down in my rush of comfort at the sight of Mason come rushing back to me in a tidal wave. I move to my feet with a quickness I barely remember and look around the shadowed room.

“Where are we?” I ask aloud. I turn to Katniss who’s beginning to sit up and cock an eyebrow towards her. “I don’t understand.”

Calmly, Katniss shifts the blankets away from Mason’s still sleeping form and turns to me with her hands held aloft.

“It’s okay Peeta – we’re safe,” She says. I frown, her words not what I expected now that the adrenaline is back flooding through my system. I know we’re _safe_ I just don’t know if I can _trust_ why we’re safe.

“Who was that at the station, Katniss?” I push, desperate to fill in the holes that right now sit empty but for a layer of worry.

“We missed a lot while we were gone. The District – it’s changed,” She steps around me and towards the lone window that sits high up on the wall. I understand in that moment that we’re in a basement. That’s why the dark is so prevalent and the chill coils around us.

My mind clicks around for another moment as she pushes open the curtain before it hits me.

Only Peacekeeper homes have real basements. As a precaution against war or nature. As a temporary safe house. As a temporary prison. This is a basement, not a storage cellar.

“Katniss?” I ask carefully, my voice cracking.

 “We’re in Darius’ basement, Peeta,” She answers quietly as she turns back towards me. I stare at her with her face shadowed by the light from behind. I’m sure my chin is touching my chest with how wide my mouth must be hanging open in shock.

I snap out of it quickly though and bolt towards the bed, snatching up Mason and grabbing Katniss’ arm forcefully as panic fills in my gut.

“We need to get out of here. We can’t be _here_.” My gaze flits around the room, pulling Katniss along behind me as I struggle over towards where our bags have been discarded on the floor.

“Peeta – no, stop!” She shouts, jerking her arm free of my grasp with ease. I use my spare hand to gather up our bags and spin back towards her, my one arm loaded with our gear and the other holding Mason for dear life.

“What is _wrong with you_?” I hiss. “It’s _not safe_ here. Are you _insane_?”

The last words are like a slap as her eyes whip towards the floor for a moment.

“You’re not being rational right now, Peeta. It’s okay –“

“No! It is _not_ okay! They’ve captured us! We might have Mason but where is _Prim_? And Haymitch? And Rory!” I feel like I’m clawing for breath as my eyes search the room for a door. An escape. Anything.

“Peeta!” She screams and overhead I hear the bumble of footsteps on wood flooring. My stomach bottoms out and I drop our bags hastily before forcing Katniss into a corner and pressing my body against her with Mason between us. The shock of my movements, our positioning with my back towards the door, all of it increases my anxiety until I feel Katniss’ fingers brush across my damp cheek as the wood slams open behind me.

“It’s okay, Peeta,” Katniss soothes gently, her thumb brushing across my brow. All I can feel is the racing beat of my heart in my chest and the way my breath seems to get locked in my lungs. I’ve been fighting for so long – so terrified of getting caught or of having this family taken away – that I can barely handle the words that she’s whispering to me. “We haven’t been captured. I need you to calm down for me, okay?” Her voice shakes ever so slightly as she presses against my chest and eases us away from the wall.

“Peeta? Katniss? Are you alright? I heard screaming,” Rory’s gruff voice breaks through the darkness and I spin towards him, confusion racing through me.

“We’re okay – just trying to get a handle on things,” Katniss answers for us.

I’m frozen in one spot, my feet not able to move as Rory flicks on the light and I take in the sight around me. It’s a small room, no bigger than my room over the bakery, but the walls are lined with posters with various district insignia. The images are faded and worn, the edges torn, but I can’t help the weary feeling that courses through me when I realize that they’re posters from _all_ of the Districts.

Plus one.

District 13.

“What’s going on?” I whisper. I turn to Katniss then, my arms holding Mason so tightly he begins to cry out but I don’t dare let him go. Katniss frowns and motions towards the door.

“Why don’t we go upstairs to talk about this?” She replies steadily and, without hesitating, takes my hand and leads me after Rory.

The main floor of Darius’ house is barren, the only furniture present showing heavy wear and damage. Somehow it still manages to look comfortable, I find, as we make our way through the living room towards what appears to be the kitchen.

The sight that greets me nearly leaves me breathless.

Haymitch, Prim, Delly, Gemma and Darius all sit around the table with another man in a Peacekeepers uniform. I take in the sight of them all – Delly with a bruised cheek, Darius with a scarred lash across his face that could only be from a whip, and Haymitch looking far more sober and less yellow than I’ve ever seen him. But it’s the man in the uniform – the stranger I don’t know – that concerns me the most as I step into the room with Katniss by my side.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Prim states, getting up from the table and pulling down a mug that she fills with milk. Stepping towards me she hands me the mug and motions to take Mason from my grasp. I hesitate, frowning down at her for just a moment before her trademark wide smile and comforting gaze reassure me. “I’m just going to get him some formula.” I let her take him from my arms and stare after her while she moves around the room.

“Why don’t you have a seat, kid?” Haymitch mutters, strangely offering me his chair. Katniss guides me over to it without question and settles me into it before standing behind me with her hands grasping onto my shoulders.

“Wha – what’s going on?” I sputter, unsure of whether to speak with two Peacekeepers in the room. I don’t understand what’s happening but the eerily calm way that everyone is behaving is confusing me beyond belief.

Thankfully, Delly starts first as she reaches out for my hand and squeezes it tightly.

“District 13 exists,” She states carefully, her tone even. I watch as she looks towards Gemma who shifts in her seat.

“I’ve been working with an underground connection to District 13 since after the Peacekeepers killed my father five years ago,” Gemma begins hesitantly, her eyes lowering to the table as Delly’s other hand snakes out to grip hers as well. “It started when I began living at the orphanage. I started noticing children disappearing. At first I thought they were dying without ceremony – that was normal for the home. But then I noticed it was the healthy kids – the ones with more of a chance at survival – that were disappearing. When I became of age I finally got up the courage to ask what was going on. That’s when I was first introduced to Elastus Boggs,” She pauses and motions to the man in the uniform.

I turn my gaze towards him and frown, uncertain of what’s coming next.

“We’ve been funnelling orphaned children out of the District together for the last few years now. It’s always worked in both our favours – District 12 has too many mouths to feed and District 13 can’t create anymore because of a virus that damaged citizen’s fertility a decade ago. We’re both dying but together we could thrive. Which is why when the drought started to get really bad I reached out to them for help.” I swallow heavily at her words, desperate to process them and what they meant.

“District 13 has helped install a new Head Peacekeeper,” Darius interrupts.

“What?” I ask, startled. With Thread’s death I assumed naturally the Capitol would take over and things would be worse. Hadn’t that been why we’d run? Hadn’t that been why we’d been forced to escape?

“Boggs here is the new Head Peacekeeper, Peeta,” Delly adds quietly. My eyes snap to the man who’s sat quietly at the table, listening to everything without saying a word.

“How is that possible? How has the Capitol not destroyed the district yet?” I feel my whole body tense before Katniss’ fingers press into my shoulders gently.

“It’s taken us years to get to this point,” Boggs interrupts, speaking for the first time. “We started out in the Hob, passing messages and making exchanges. When the drought came about we made efforts to feed as many families as we could manage. Our main goal was to convince enough people of the partnership between the two districts that if we shifted the power they wouldn’t raise an alarm.

“Darius here was actually an import from District 13 who worked on turning over the Peacekeepers. He kept the records for years, slowly replacing District 13 citizens with what were supposed to be Peacekeepers from District 2. When the time came to connect the two districts more deeply, we wanted more people on our side than on the Capitol’s. I think we underestimated the anger of District 12 towards the Capitol at first, otherwise we could have done this sooner.”

“So – let me try to get this straight,” I mutter, my brain reeling. “District 13 has been taking over the Capitol positions for years in order to gain control of our District? But why? What sense does that even make?”

“That’s where I come in,” Haymitch mumbles from behind me. I turn towards him, my eyes flickering between him and Boggs who stare each other down. “I’ve been working with my contacts in other districts for years now. We’re planning on taking down the Capitol. That’s the end goal, at least. Most of the district’s are in on it. Some can exist on their own – like District 10 and 11, probably. But us in 12? Our industry relies on buyers. We can’t eat coal. So we needed help and that’s when saving orphans became more like trading for resources.”

I can’t process it all. I can’t imagine what they’re talking about. Panem without the Capitol? It’s insane. They would bomb us all before they let us separate.

“I need – I need to go,” I start and abruptly stand, my body jerking away from the table and heading quickly towards the door before anyone can move. Katniss is the only one that follows, chasing after me as I burst out through the back door of the small house and into a dirt yard that’s scattered with chickens. They cluck and poke around aimlessly as I run my fingers against my scalp, missing my blond hair, as our escape mission comes flooding back to me.

“Peeta,” Katniss calls out quietly from the porch, watching me as I pace back and forth and disrupt the hens without care.

“How did we even get here, Katniss?” I moan achingly, my fingers pressing against my temples.

“You were on the train. I tried to tell you to wait when I recognized Gemma as one of the guards but you were already too far away. When we found you up the track you were unconscious so we brought you back here until you woke up. Prim and Haymitch never left the District when we did. Gemma got to them before they got on the train.”

“Did they know? Did everyone else know?” Katniss shakes her head and steps towards me, wrapping me up in her arms tightly.

“Gemma never told us what was happening because she needed it all to be real. She didn’t even tell Delly what was happening. It was their chance and they played us all.” She whispers into my ear. I hold her closely as it sinks in.

“Can we trust them?” I ask calmly, staring at the trees in the distance.

“I don’t know. I think so.”

We stand together like that for a long time, the clucks of the birds and the wind in the trees the only thing surrounding us as we hold tight. When finally we head back inside, food has been spread out on the table for us. I watch as Katniss takes Mason back into her arms and sits next to me, pulling her chair up close until our legs are touching.

“What happened after we left?” Katniss asks carefully, offering me a small cracker from the pile on the table.  I’m surprised by her question mostly because I’d assumed she’d been completely filled in while I was out but apparently that’s not the case.

“We headed for the station, like we promised,” Prim starts. She stands in the corner, leaning against Rory who wraps his arm tightly around her waist. I can’t help but smile slightly at the sight. “There was nobody there – no train or anything. Gemma had left right after the Peacekeepers had taken Peeta and Delly and we figured she wasn’t coming with us – we didn’t even think about it. Haymitch kept slowing us down and we thought maybe we’d missed the train because it was so empty. But then Gemma found us and we heard a lot of noise coming from the center of town and she brought us here where we hid out for a few days.”

“That’s my fault, sweetheart, for not letting them leave,” Haymitch adds weakly, almost remorsefully.

“Haymitch no – don’t say that! You did what you had to do. You were right – it would have taken months to find us if we left,” Prim injects. She meets Katniss’ eyes carefully as she continues. “We hid out in Darius’ basement while you guys were gone. The District is still uneasy after the riot that day – a few people were killed after Thread –“ She stops abruptly and looks away. Glancing towards Katniss, I see the haunted look in her eyes – the one that always appears whenever she remembers the day she killed that man. Without hesitation I grip her hand in mine and squeeze it tightly, reminding her that I’m here.

“We looked for you,” It’s Rory who speaks now, munching on a bit of cheese. “We searched the woods but we couldn’t find you anywhere. Must have taught you good.” He finishes, referencing Gale with a grimace.

“What was the plan?” I surprise myself by asking after a moment of silence. The question has been plaguing me since coming back inside.

“It was a plan of opportunity, Peeta,” Gemma replies, shifting in her seat. “Thread had been causing us trouble with more than just the harsh penalties. He was sent by the Capitol to check efficiencies and how the current Peacekeepers were handling the conditions. He knew something was different the day he stepped foot on District 12 soil. I don’t think he knew that the Peacekeepers on paper held different names than the Peacekeepers known in town – the papers still said Perry was on active duty but he’d died and been replaced by Sedgeworth a year ago. But he was figuring it out.

“When Delly was caught and he took you as punishment as well, we figured it was as good a time as any to put a huge crack in the loyalties and take out Thread. It was a good time to destroy the barrier to hunting and boarders that the Capitol had put in place using the charges and the outrage as fuel. People on both sides of the town were willing to fight with that and _that’s_ when we convinced a lot of people of the plan. Every worker in the mines, with the exception of a few, is on board with the rebellion as long as it keeps happening quietly. They don’t want another Dark Days War, but they’re willing to subvert the Capitol with illusion.”

“And that’s what we’re going to keep doing,” Boggs adds. “The goal is to replace the enforcement with District 13 citizens to continue the illusion and then begin integration between the two districts. Once District 12 is aligned with District 13, the Capitol will be less likely to challenge it since 13 has been segregated for decades because of its firepower threat to the Capitol. District 12 will be safe and the rest of Panem can finally begin the next stage of taking them down before operating as independent districts. No more rationing systems, no more unreasonable quotas – industry will operate based on trade. The Capitol will no longer profit from district suffering and District 13 can finally rejoin Panem.”

Pulling in a harsh breath, I try to digest his words and the plans for the future. My world has been turned upside down in one day. All I’d wanted was to run a bakery, to love Katniss and Mason and protect my family, and now there was so much more to fight for. We’d become a catalyst without even trying and now we were in on one of the most subversive plans that I’d ever heard of that wasn’t in a storybook.

Turning to Katniss, I meet her eyes and nod, giving my acknowledgement that maybe yes, we can trust this. She doesn’t turn away as she speaks, her voice strong and determined.

“So what happens next?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, about that chapter eh? Um, I apologize. Maybe. I don't know. This is a ramble note because I've nothing to really address at the moment. Come bumble with me about it on Tumblr, lollercakesff.


	20. Chapter 20

It’s been one year, six months and five days since we re-entered the district after hiding out in fear of our lives. My hair’s grown out, Mason walks, and Katniss has become the mother I always expected her to be. Outward progress in the district has been slow. Despite the increase in precipitation during the summer months, food production and import from other districts like 11 have nearly ceased to exist. Apparently this had been part of the plan all along.

One of the key actions involved in rebelling against the Capitol had been for each district to begin to hinder operations of Capitol trade. The drought, combined with the reduced export of goods from the food production districts, had compounded to create a critical issue not only in District 12 but all across Panem. The effects of this decision had been long lasting and wide-spread. District 12’s year of starvation and desperation hadn’t been solely caused by the drought – it had been caught up in the risky game the districts were playing for freedom.

Haymitch had explained it as such while we sat around the dinner table eating at bits of wild turkey that Katniss had hunted earlier that day. Prim had been the first to enquire about why the rations were still small and why I was unable to open the bakery yet.

“It’s because District 11 is still trying to control its own destiny,” he started, setting his bottle of liquor back on the table. “They’re refusing to meet the Capitol’s demands in order to break their part of the system. If each district takes out a piece, the whole thing collapses and we’re free to rebuild as the people need to, without the Capitol. It takes destruction to have rebirth, or some shit like that.”

None of us really say anything after that. None of us really can. District 12’s quiet suffering has been in existence for decades – what’s a few more difficult seasons? As long as we have each other and as long as the Peacekeepers remain segregated from the Capitol command we’ll be safe to find resources beyond the now-decrepit fence and begin to exist on our own. 

That doesn’t make it easier though to acknowledge that people are still starving in 12. I’m back working in the mines, unable to operate the bakery for more than a day a week. Imports are low and the only thing that’s seemingly got better since we last fled into the forest is the Peacekeepers who no longer threaten our livelihoods or our happiness with their Capitol ties.

No, that is over now.

In our third month back in the district Boggs called all those intimately involved in the rebellion into a meeting to confirm that the final Capitol-appointed Peacekeeper had been removed. To say that there’d been an audible sigh of relief would be lying – the whole room had erupted into carefully controlled sounds of gratitude and relief. It had evolved, rather quickly, into a party that had extended past the small confines of Darius’ house (the main headquarters of the rebellion because of his control of the documents) and into the streets.

The district community hadn’t understood then why we’d stood staring at the stars and waiting for the cold to creep into our bones and subside the warm rush of adrenaline that we’d felt at the news. I’d stood with Katniss by my side, Mason tucked into the warmth of my coat, as we stood stock till while we considered what came next.

We haven’t stopped considering what comes next since we came back.

A week after being let in on the rebellion and the existence of District 13, we took Darius’ subtle hint to move out of his basement and return to a house of our own. He’d reassured us that moving on was in everyone’s best interest and that the change would be hard to see come the next few months.

Katniss had without words been clear that she couldn’t yet live in the house she’d shared with Gale. I’d been adamant that we didn’t return to Haymitch’s house for fear of imposing. Our agreement had brought us to the bakery where we’d set up Mason’s room in my old childhood bedroom and Katniss and I had settled in my parent’s old room with the view of the town square. It was cozy, but we made do with what we had. Despite being content at the bakery, we still probably spent many more evenings in Haymitch’s house than our own.

We weren’t the only one facing a change in the living landscape.

Haymitch had been quick to open his home to Prim after our return. What he hadn’t expected from that offer was for Prim to insist that Rory move into Katniss’ old room with them. The initial reaction had seemingly caught Haymitch off guard and the resulting confusion had been priceless to watch. Prim had intended to bring Rory all along, but Haymitch hadn’t even factored in having the young Hawthorne invade his space as well. The old man had stared awkwardly at Prim for a moment after she asked before quietly relenting with a few noted curse words.

It only took seven months of shared living with Haymitch before Prim and Rory had come asking to move into Katniss’ old house. The discussion hadn’t been long – a mere exchange of keys between sisters – before Prim had hugged us both and disappeared out of the bakery. I’d stood there laughing, Mason covering himself in unusable flour on the table, as Katniss had stared after her sister in surprise.

“Was that a good decision?” She had asked, interrupting my amusement. I’d gone to her then and pulled her into my arms, tightly holding her close.

“It was the best decision, Katniss. You know that house can’t sit empty and Prim deserves it so much,” I murmur to her before stepping back and grabbing Mason off the counter.

“Yeah, but that’s – what if they do something foolish?” I don’t even hesitate with my response.

“Does this little bit look foolish?” I hand Mason over to her prone form and urge her gently to take him in her arms. He was a good thing that came from that house and though Gale is now gone, Mason still represents the love that Katniss and he had shared for so long. “Growing up is hard, especially here. She’s found someone who came back for her and that’s all that matters. We can’t stop living,” I add before resting my head on her shoulder. She shrugs, the movement making my head bob and Mason run his floury hands across her shirt enthusiastically.

“I don’t want to stop living; I just want her to be careful...”

“Rory is so much like his brother,” The reminder is soft, not used very often but still given whenever she seems to slip into confusing the two brothers. “But he doesn’t work in the mines. He’s safe and he’ll treat your sister as though she was gold – you’ve seen it, you know it.”

“You work in the mines though, Peeta,” she states before stepping away from me and heading towards the staircase. I let her go. This discussion happens often now and there’s no way for me to make it better. Instead I start to clean up the mess before losing my temper and chucking the box of goods across the room. I watch it smash to pieces, bits of things flying through the air as the breath hisses through my nostrils and my hands clench.

Since returning to the district I’ve tried desperately to find new ways to earn money and support Katniss and Mason. I’ve insisted on refusing Haymitch’s money, certain that we can do this on our own.

On the day that I’d returned to the mines though, Katniss had spent the night with Prim. It had become an unspoken thing between us, her fear compounding since we’d found each other. She didn’t acknowledge my job and often insisted I refuse doubles so that I could take care of Mason while she went out to the woods. We both knew what we were doing by skirting around the issue, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t hold it against her and she continued to be there when I needed her.

At the year mark of our return we participated in the district’s minimal harvest. The mines operated at minimum levels and I re-opened the bakery to prepare a small gift of appreciation to the members of the district who’d come out to help. At the end, food was either prepared or stored, hidden away for the deepest depths of winter.

Now five months later we’re digging into those stores, grasping at jars of pickles and the last batches of potatoes in our cellar. We’re nowhere near where we were two winters ago but we’re getting close.

Despite being able to hunt, Katniss comes home empty handed more than she wants to admit. With the fence no longer being a barrier and the people of the district once again feeling the crunch there’s no fear about trespassing and hunting. They’re not the most successful but their intrusion and their noise are easily the cause for why animals are so few and far between as of late.

That’s probably why when I come home from the mine today to an empty table I’m not surprised. Katniss sits in our room above the bakery, her feet on the floor and her head in her hands as she sits on the edge of the bed. I expected her to want to go out – to want to hunt – but when I suggest it nothing good comes from it.

“I won’t catch anything – what’s the point? We’re all just going to starve anyways!” She shouts towards the floor, refusing to look at me after my suggestion. I remain frozen in the doorway, my hands itching to touch her, to draw her close, but fearing that perhaps she’s not looking for comfort right now. Instead I choose not to say anything, simply walking into the room and sitting down beside her. We don’t talk, both of us too tired and hungry to do much of anything. At least until she rests her head against my shoulder and breathes in a heavy breath.

“We won’t starve,” I whisper and let my hand find hers. I know it’s been hard – we’re not blinded to that – but there’s no reason that we can’t get through this winter much like we have for the past few years.  At least I have to keep thinking that even when she rolls us onto our backs and curls into my chest for comfort.

When Mason wakes from his nap for dinner, I leave Katniss to the bed and make my way downstairs. I pull together a small plate of food out of the reserves that we keep just for him and watch him eat while he garbles on excitedly. I’m so distracted with his playful attempts at speaking that I barely notice the way the water vibrates in the glass on the table.

“Peeta!” Katniss screams, breaking me from my haze. I lurch from the table when she stumbles down from the stairs and grab at her hands before she falls against the counter. “The square! They’re in the square!” She gasps and I see it then, the pure fear that courses through her. Behind me Mason shouts in excitement. My mind spins.

“Stay here,” I instruct gently and pull on my boots before heading towards the back door of the bakery hastily. I make it out and around the side of the building before catching sight of the hovercraft that’s set down on the far side of the square, nearly out of sight but for the beaming lights cutting through the evening’s darkness.

Freezing in place, I watch from behind a barrel as District 13 Peacekeepers approach the machine with caution and their guns raised. When the door to the craft opens I have to grip my hands together to stop them from shaking at the sight of people walking out and towards the Peacekeepers.

I can’t stop my mind from thinking that this could be it. The moment we’ve been afraid of, that we’ve been waiting for since we learned about the plan. The Capitol is finally on to us. They aren’t giving in.

They want a war.

From my place near the bakery I can’t make out what’s being discussed across the square. I can only watch as the men in fancy clothes follow the Peacekeepers down a side road towards the direction of Boggs’ lodgings.

“Do you know who they are?” Katniss’ voice startles me from where she stands behind me, Mason in one arm and a backpack in the other. She looks ready to run.

“I thought you were going to stay inside.”

“Peeta,” she steps forward then and grabs my arm. “Pack a bag. This is it. We need to get to Haymitch’s.”

Without another word I hurry inside and throw together a mixture of mine and Katniss’ clothes. I pack for warmth, just in case, and grab a few medical supplies that we’ve stocked up on from our cupboards. In no time I’m back in the alley and we’re heading across town towards Haymitch’s house.

We arrive quicker than usual, not even bothering to knock before stepping inside. Thankfully Prim and Rory are already here and preparing for their weekly dinner with the old man.

“They’re here,” I grunt when the three poke their heads out of the kitchen.

“What?” Haymitch mumbles from the table. Katniss leads us into the kitchen and we quickly explain what we’ve seen. The five of us stand around the table for another minute as we digest the news that our quiet district is about to be challenging the Capitol head on.

“We could go to District 4,” Prim suggests quietly, suddenly afraid of the plan we’d put in place for when this finally happened. Rory is the first to grab her hand and shake his head.

“We need to stay and wait this out. It’s going to happen everywhere.”

“Rory and I need to go check in with Darius,” I start, breaking the quiet that had settled around the room and beginning to put things in motion.

This was only the beginning. Group together, prepare, and see how we could help. We had been planning for months to stick out and fight for District 12. This was our home and we couldn’t leave it now, not when all our suffering was getting ready to come to a head. But the idea made me nervous, especially now that the threat was real.

Along the way we notify houses in the Seam and send fellow miners off to notify the others that the time has come. When we reach Darius’ house we don’t bother knocking before entering through the back door and settling in his kitchen. He comes home not too long after, sitting in a chair and gauging us.

“They’ve come to investigate the mines. To see why production goals aren’t being met,” He speaks evenly, watching us. As the only import from District 13 that we trust, Rory and I need to believe every word that he speaks.

“What do we do? The market isn’t stable yet and we still rely heavily on the rations.” Rory states carefully. It’s true – District 12 is still very much dependent on the Capitol and right now many people in the area would starve if there was a war.

“We’ve called in backup. We just need to get through until they get here, alright?” Darius responds and I look towards Rory who watches the man skeptically.

The next day comes and I head to the mines for my morning shift. The men from the Capitol are there, staring us down as we walk to our stations and head into the depths. Throughout the day we catch them wandering the tunnels, measuring us and checking our productivity levels. It’s only when we return to the surface at dusk do we see them discussing with Smits the operations of the mine. I try to listen, to eavesdrop on their conversation, but I’m waved forward by another foreman who chastises me for loitering in the danger zone.

The next few days pass without any word from Darius or Boggs. We keep our heads down, waiting and watching, for any sign that the Capitol is making its move. Katniss only leaves Mason’s side when she needs to, swearing that she won’t leave him alone this time if we need to escape again. With all of us living in Haymitch’s house we try to make it work. Space is tight and tension is high but we’ve no choice but to stick together.

It’s almost a week later when Haymitch is summoned to Darius’ house without us. We wait with baited breath, sitting in the living room and watching the fire crackle as the sun sinks lower on the horizon. It’s hours before he returns and when he does the look on his face makes us all freeze in our seats.

“Haymitch?” Katniss prods, standing with Mason squirming in her arms.

“It’s done,” He whispers in return, his voice barely audible. We all stand up then, our hearts beating in our chest as the idea of it all ending comes back into a reality.

“What does that mean?” Katniss asks. She’s the only one who apparently can speak right now, my words locked in my throat.

“It means, sweetheart,” he pauses and looks towards each of us slowly. “That we’re free.”

I try to let it process. I try to let the words and the idea of it sink in. But it lingers in the air and pounds in my skull. If we’re free, how come I feel no relief?

“District 13 played their card. The Capitol gave us up and said we weren’t worth the hassle. I don’t know how they did it – apparently it has to do with the nuclear force of 13 or something – but the Capitol just gave in. Said they were going to write the district off as a dry resource ground and move on. Boggs thinks it’s because we were the first district to want to separate and because we’re more work than we’re worth,” Haymitch continues and I feel lightheaded.

This is too easy. Am I not the only one thinking this is too easy? Surely the Capitol wouldn’t give up like this – they’d fight for every last piece of this district so long as they had the slave labour to continue it. It doesn’t make sense.

“So, what happens to us all now?” Rory injects. My head is screaming that this is all wrong. That we don’t want to know and that we need to leave _now_. I must make a sound or do something audible because Katniss looks behind her just then and takes in the sight of me. She doesn’t waste a minute before coming towards me and holding me tightly. I want to tell her that we need to go, get out of here fast, but I know she won’t believe me. This happens too often since the drought and the accident. My fears get the better of me and I’m dragged into this paranoia.

“District 13 takes control and the district continues to operate as normal. We’ll be reducing the mine work and beginning to cultivate more crops and industry hopefully come spring. They want to open a factory for medicines in the area so that there’s still money but it’s self-sufficient. It’ll still be hard but –“ Haymitch’s words are cut off by a sound from outside that makes my whole body tense up as the ground shakes beneath us.

Another shocked second passes before there’s an explosion that shakes the house and has the windows vibrating in their panes.

Explosions. _Bombs_.

“We need to go!” I finally force the words from my throat, my instincts screaming at me to listen to them now.

The Capitol would never just _give up_ one of its districts. It was foolish to think it was possible. Foolish to be lulled into such a belief that they were fair players. They won’t ever let us go – not without a fight. And it’s a fight that we can’t afford especially if we’re caught between the Capitol and the firepower of District 13.

We need to run. We need to take this home – the one made of these people in this room – and take it somewhere safe. Looking into Katniss’ eyes, I know in that moment that we’re going back to the forest until we can decide what comes next. Only this time there will be six of us, not two, and we’ll all be together until the next relief comes.

It’s one year, six months and five days later that we stand on the edge of the forest and watch District 12 burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it folks. I'm sorry it took so long (and might not have been worth it) but I'm happy with this ending considering the major issues I've dealt with since first starting to write it. I was in a totally different mindset when I first started and I think that played a large role in where it's ending now. I might do an epilogue, I'm still on the fence about it, but I think this is a good place to stop. Thank you for sticking with me and providing all the support and love you have for this story. Love you all.


	21. Epilogue

Have you ever listened to the sound of the rain? The quiet pitter-patter that sprinkles across your tin roof as the skies overhead open up and let their tears fall?

It's an odd kind of quiet, a rare one in between Rory's snoring and Haymitch's grumbled dreams. But I guess it's expected today. I'm the last one still in bed, the only one in the room cabin as the rain falls from above and lingers over our day as though it is telling of how I feel inside.

We all knew this day would come. We never thought it _wouldn't_ but now that it's here you can see how nervous it makes us all. Rory with his silence, Prim with her gnarled skin barely able to hide her nerves, Haymitch with his distance and finally Peeta with the way he'd clung to me all night as though I was going to disappear out from beside him.

Of course it was all silly. Where could I go with a growing belly like mine?

No, we knew this day was coming. Sometime we'd often longed for it – like the day when the pack of wild dogs had caught Prim unawares in the forest. That day, the night even more so, we'd hoped for the day that we could return to the district and rebuild our lives. She'd almost left us then though not by choice and I'd very nearly been ready to follow after her.

It had been the longest winter since the war started. The cold hung on to every branch, every root, for weeks after our food stores had run out. Off in the distance every night we could hear the dogs crying out, their desperate pleas for food falling on barren forest lands.

Prim had wandered out on her own to gather kindling. Nobody had known she'd gone until the screams cracked through the frozen beams and hit me like a wall of ice.

"Prim!" I'd screamed, my body shooting from the fragile chair we'd constructed in our makeshift cabin. I wasn't the first one out of the four walls – Rory found her first, my arrows found the dogs, and Haymitch ran her home.

A claw had caught her face, a great gash that tore at her thin skin and oft used muscles. Apart from other small wounds it was her most telling feature from the fray.

She didn't smile as much now though I don't know whether it's Prim not smiling or her smile merely coming across as more of a grimace. There was a change in her after those dogs.

There was a change in us all.

Today is the day. The one we can no longer avoid. Not after years of dousing our only fires during distant hovercraft sightings. Not after camouflaging our life from wanderers and searchers.

"Mum," a small voice, still so young, calls out to me, rousing me from the corners of my own mind. I lift my face and focus on my son, his dark hair curling around his boyish face. He's grown so much, here amongst the trees. I wonder now how he'll fare when we leave – when his five-year old self is no longer able to walk freely and scavenge as we've taught him.

It seems foolish to worry. It's a free district now where we're returning. The war is over, the Capitol has left.

Still though.

"Are you getting up? Pop is just finishing breakfast," Mason chimes, shifting his feet towards my pallet.

"I am, boyo," I reply but remain on my side. Just a few more minutes. After today this bed will no longer be ours. The sound of the rain on the tin will be gone. The quiet and the familiarity of this home we've built in the forest will forever leave us.

It's funny now, I must admit, how living here has grown on me. At first returning had been difficult. A baby in tow, three more people to care for, endless nights of screaming and snoring and miserable cold. I'd barely held it together, often drifting out away from the cabin simply for some peace and quiet.

Peeta had been my rock then, caring for Mason and keeping everything together in some unimaginable way. I don't know how he managed, but he did, and he helped build onto the cabin to expand it for us all. Though privacy remained limited we never forgot the value of Prim's branch-woven room dividers or Haymitch's poor attempts at water routing.

After so many months in the forest we'd turned this cabin into a home much too small but a home none the less.

"Mum..." Mason tumbles down onto my pallet with me, his rambunctious side flaring up. "You have to feed Tad or Pop is going to come get you!"

"I know, I know," mumbling I roll until I'm nuzzling him close, breathing in the smell of him and savouring this last moment. "I love you, you know?" I want to remind him. I don't remind any of them enough. Not nearly enough, especially after all that I've lost already.

"Stop being mushy," he giggles and pops from the bed, grasping at my hands and pulling with all his might. I let him drag me up – more like need him to _help_ me get up with this silly bump – and we head outside to our dirt floor common room where the fire burns in the center and our makeshift furniture lines the walls.

"Nice of you to finally join us, Sweetheart," Haymitch grumbles from the creaking rocking chair we'd tried to build in our first few months. It's still in one piece so I guess that's saying something.

"Katniss, I've put the rest of the fabrics in your sack for the return – is that alright or are your feet swollen again?" Prim calls from the corner of the room where she's busy tucking things into bags in an organized fashion. Rory snickers from his place against the door jam, his back to us as he watches the rain fall outside.

"No, that's alright Prim," I call out, moving into a chair by the fire where Peeta is dishing out something from the skillet.

"Are you sure we have to go today?" He asks the room tentatively as he hands me the dish. I catch his gaze lingering upon me, concern and nerves bundled behind adoration and admiration.

"For the last time boy, yes, we've got to go today. If we don't go today then we won't go tomorrow, and if we don't go then than before we know it she's going to be ready to pop and we won't be anywhere near where we could get help if we needed it," Haymitch answers brusquely.

My eyes catch his for a moment at his words, his brow tight as his tone softens. I can see how anxious he is but I can't tell if it's because of me, because of this child I wasn't prepared to carry just yet, or because we're returning to a place that has never held too many happy memories for him. Either way, when his gaze flickers down to his lap I'm glad to hear no snappy replies.

"We'll be there before you know it," Peeta whispers, breaking my focus from observing Haymitch as he finishes his tea. I smile up at him, revelling in the soft peck of his lips on my forehead while Mason calls out to Rory in the background.

"I know. Are you ready for this?" I answer him quietly, taking his boney hand as he squats down before me.

He never quite recovered from the hunger before the war – you can see it in the lines of his face and his thin frame with wiry muscles. There's also a careful mask that he wears now, one I only see him without in the last light before dark as we lay together on our pallet. His fears and anxieties still haunt him but now they're quieter, less frequent and consuming. Despite all of that, he's still beautiful to me. He's still the man I love and the one I have raised our son with, the one I will bear another child for.

I never thought that would happen – not before Gale, not after – but here I am, pregnant and planning to return to a district we left when the war began. Now we know it's over – our contacts having found us after the rebellion finally won – and we're returning to restart our lives.

"Trust me to try?" He replies and presses his cheek to my stomach.

It's these moments that remind me of all that I've lost and all that I've gained.

I lost Gale, but in a way he's never left me. I have Mason now, Peeta as well, and I doubt I ever would have had either without the man I first loved. He gave me Mason to love and brought Peeta to me as the man to hold me together. In return I grew stronger; I learned and became a mother. I love fiercely and give in return the love that Peeta has graced me with.

Before this all my life was barren – dry like the summer that lead to our harshest drought. Now, as the rain falls overhead and we look towards our journey back to the district I realize my life is no longer that landscape. Before me lay a new life to build, a great scene to watch grow, with the gifts I've received in these people.

They should tell you that when you're young; that life may seem dry and hopeless, harsh and brutal, but if you wait until the rain comes you'll see. Everything changes when the rain comes.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For EucaEuca who came back four months later and told me I needed an epilogue. I figured if you're still thinking about it four months later, it is probably worth it. Hope it doesn't ruin it for any of you. Love you all.

**Author's Note:**

> An amazingly huge thanks to both PenelopeWeaving and Wildharp who were amazing as my sounding boards to this story in the midst of my brain trying to wrap up my other stories - I couldn't have done it without them.


End file.
